Plain, Simple, and Everything But!
by spacecake23
Summary: The new girl on Baker St is bland, dull, and nothing extraordinary to Sherlock. When his arch nemesis shows an avid interest. He can't help but be curious. But this new girl has secrets, deep secrets that she wants to keep hidden. It was the whole reason she moved to London after all. Who will crack the case of Adele Banks? Not a great summary, read anyway(RATED M) sherl/oc/jim
1. Chapter 1: PSAEB!

**So this is my new story. Decided to go with BBC's Sherlock! Cause who doesn't love those dashing cheekbones and stunning eyes? Or Jim's dark yet perky personality? As I mentioned in my last story I can see little to no RED on the computer screen. I apologize before-hand if I missed anything concerning spelling. This is a slash between JIM M./OC/SHERLOCK.** **Just not quite sure who yet ;) I also wanted to raise Schizophrenia awareness and made my OC schizophrenic. I wanted to bring something interesting to the table while also shining light on a mental disease that is mostly perceived as horribly bad in the media and is often misunderstood by the general public. **

**I really hope you take the time to review as you know I do love them quite a lot, and also fav/follow! I do not own anything BBC Sherlock or any of the characters or storyline. But my OC Adele, her family, and story is mine and mine alone. RATED FOR GRAPHIC SCENE/THOUGHTS/LANGUAGE/AND MAYBE LEMON (idk yet) dont like? Don't read pls! **Now, onward to the world of Sherlock! Enjoy!****

* * *

_Thoughts will be written as italics_.

**Flashback will be written in bold.**

**STORY TAKES PLACE IN THE BEGINNING OF SEASON 1**

**Plain Simple and Everything But! CH.1**

She'd been sitting outside for nearly an hour, chain smoking her cigarettes from her second pack that day, though she only sucked them down half way before stomping them out. Sherlock had only been outside once to puff on his own glorious smoke, and not once did she fully acknowledge him. She only turned to see who'd come out, then looked away and went back to staring into the street. Likewise, Sherlock was not very interested in her either. The moment Mrs. Hudson introduced her, Sherlock had deduced everything about her. Like John, she was a pool of unimportant information.

American, awkward and unsure –third child and over shadowed by her overachiever siblings-, socially undeveloped – clearly not miss popular-, from her soft build to thin limbs she was obviously not a sportsman, hair freshly dyed black –originally brunette-, and a bookworm. Nothing about her screamed 'I-have-talent-and-ambition' or 'I-have-a-smashing-personality'. She was almost like Molly's double, except less smart.

"Who're you staring at?" John asked from his recliner forcing Sherlock to roll his eyes and huff out a heavy sigh.

"Isn't it obvious?"

"Uhm, no. No it isn't." John responded, his lips pursing as his jaw jutted forward in that common way it did when he was annoyed with his flatmate.

"That girl…from downstairs." Sherlock snapped his fingers rapidly, rolling them along, trying to jog his memory. Pointless things were so hard to recall.

"You mean Adele Banks?" John finished lifting his brow. "You think she's attractive?" After all he thought so too after meeting her.

"Yes, her. And God no." Sherlock swiftly turned to meet John who looked confused. "Well…what about her?"

"That's it! Nothing! There's absolutely nothing 'about' her!" The consulting detective scowled. "It's a nuisance to have her in the building." John folded his paper neatly in his lap, Sherlock seriously needed a new case. He'd been driving him up the wall, fraying all of his worn-to-nearly-nothing nerves.

"How can she be a nuisance? Adele doesn't bother anyone. She's a nice neighbor." It was true, Adele was a quiet lady who lived a quaint life. She was nothing but polite when she spoke to John on the rare occasion. But Sherlock didn't see it that way, she was like a vegetable with legs –if that made any sense-. It bothered him to know that she was just a breathing bag of flesh and bone, her head as blank as a canvas.

"Look, Adele doesn't go out of her way to bother you, and since that clearly bothers you why don't you pop in on her and say 'hi'." John said, trying to get his friend out and about. He expected Sherlock to object, to say that that was absolutely mundane and utterly pointless. However, to John's surprise Sherlock thought for a moment, then nodded.

"That's an excellent idea!"

"Really?"

"Of course! I can…socialize..?" The consulting detective scrunched his face up awkwardly, flipping his scarf over his shoulder to have a go at this 'socialization'

"Oh…well. Cheers."

* * *

_**Adele Banks **_

"Good morning." I turned, glancing up as I did to see my upstairs neighbor. What was his name? He had such glorious cheek bones, that I had to resist the urge to touch them.

"Good…morning?" I replied, blinking once or twice and then went back to watch the cars pass me by. The cars were so different from the ones in America, from the seating arrangement to the overall design.

"Are you enjoying London?" Sherlock pressed, batting away his annoyance. Of course she was, it was all over her ditzy face. He scanned her body language, nothing had changed. She was boring, boring, boring.

"Mm-hm." I pushed another cigarette to my mouth, later on I'd have to get more. "It's different." Shoving his hands in his trench coat he resisted the urge to openly sigh. I was aware of the 'well-duh' look on his face.

"Are you trying to bum a cigarette?" Catching Sherlock slightly off guard I stared up at him. "I'm sorry…what?"

"Bum a cigarette, you know to get a smoke by being friendly?" The man scrunched up his face.

"Of course not." Even if he was burning to have a cigarette he would not have asked her, she smoked clove cigarettes, or Kreteks as they were called in some places. A choice she made to undoubtedly make herself seem much more unique.

"Then what are you here for? I don't date." I asked still staring at that man who looked like he had lost all patience. Was that all women assumed? Even the stupid ones?

"No of course you don't date. Because nobody would subject themselves to such a dull and unappealing woman such as yourself. You've never even had a solid relationship outside of your family, and even that is shaky. Mum and dad are busy fawning over your brother and sister while trying to make it seem like you're worth mentioning at gatherings when you've absolutely achieved nothing and never will. You will be stuck working at a dead end job, living in a dead end apartment, and within the next thirty years you'll own several cats. Which is why you moved to London, it is nothing more than a fashion statement to you so that you can brag to your family back home about how well you're getting on. You think smoking Kreteks makes you appear unique when you're not and although you've realized this you can't bring yourself to stop because you feel like you're feeding the angst void within. "

I shrugged, popping another 'kretek' into my mouth.

"Not cats. I'm really allergic. Maybe dogs or venomous snakes." By now I was used to people's forward rudeness. I had no real defense except to coolly breeze by it, taking it in stride as the man shoved off the pavement and stomped back upstairs.

Which reminded me, it was getting dark, and the street lamps were slowly coming to life, my signal to hop back into 221B, and casting one last nervous glance over the streets I skittered inside.

"Prolixin, to keep the creepies away."

"Lexapro so I don't get the frownies."

"Lithium so I don't fall off my rocker."

"And Depakote! So I don't do the silly willies."

* * *

Of course I felt pretty 'silly willy' citing my mom's mantra to get me to take my meds when I was a little kid. Even though I knew now what they were for I still felt the need to do it no matter how ridiculous it was. I was glad it was Saturday. Prolixlin kind of made me sluggish. I shuffled around the dark, lighting a candle as I moved to the sole chair in the sitting area. My whole wall was filled to the brim with books upon books, ranging from fantasy, to sci-fi, to anything else I could possibly read, including encyclopedias.

"You sure do love to read." John had said, helping me stack the books in neat orderly fashion. "It's a bit of an obsession." I admitted, "TV isn't really my thing." He smiled regardless "Probably best, lots of rubbish on the telly these days."

I couldn't help but agree, with all those people on the inside roaming around, waiting to snatch you when you least expected it and radios, how did nobody even question if aliens or the government were listening in on them? Monitoring every single thing they said?… I shook my head, Prolixlin should be kicking in any second now.

Leaning over I tossed back the small drawer in the end table, pressed the small green pager's button, waited for it to beep and then hastily tossed it back into the drawer. A few moments went by and the pager beeped a few times, signaling that the folks back home had received my message.

Sighing I pushed the heavy dictionary open and began to read. I was most comfortable this way. Alone. Not because I didn't want friends –because I really did- or because I was afraid of people –because I wasn't-. But because people were afraid of me and avoided me as soon as they found out about the big 'S' word that I was forced to carry with me for the rest of my life.

'S' as in Schizophrenia. I was diagnosed with it as a kid, around six I think. While the disease itself is rare and not really understood, it's even less understood in children. People assume I'm a deranged maniac out to hack them to little pieces, or that I am overcome by what I believe are 'demons' and do things I am in no control of.

I will admit that I do hear voices, see things that aren't there, and every once in a while have a really bad relapse where shit hits the fan, but as long as I take the meds I am okay. I function like a normal human being that has needs and wants and dreams. But it was too late for me back home, everyone was cautious around me or sympathetic. I wanted a clean start, to live in a place where people didn't automatically dub me as a psycho.

Which is why I came to London. I've always wanted to travel anyway, and what better place to go than to London? There was so much to see and do, so much history and culture. I loved my new apartment, and Mrs. Hudson was a sweet old lady who checked on me often, inviting me to tea on most days. I'd never even had tea before! I loved my job at the bookstore down the block. John was a nice guy, very friendly. I wasn't sure about his flatmate though. Seemed like a prick to me. Everything was going great, I just hoped that past events didn't re-occur.

_Or else major mom will come and get you and lock you away. *scratch* *scratch*_

_Go away 'Q', you're not real._


	2. Chapter 2: A Smile with Death

**Thank you sooooo much for your favs/follows:**

**CyanideAndRazorblades (sorry, it wouldn't write it out in full with the periods)**

**Eleshey,**

**Jisselle Says Hi, **

**The-Blind-Otaku,**

**coeurdetenebre, and **

**Thetroublewithexes! **

**It means so much to me (seriously)! To be clear, 'Q' is one of a few of Adele's voices and tends to be the most 'vocal' and violent and hostile. It is also perceived as a 'He'. The other 'voices' or 'people' will come in later on. On another note, to maintain her 'normalcy' Adele has to take her meds every day. Some of them make her drowsy, and in a combo kind of loopy if she wakes up. Without her medication her schizophrenia slowly starts to act up and gets worse. Occasionally certain things will set her off into an episode regardless of meds but that's rare. **

**If you haven't guessed, Adele has a deep seeded paranoia of electrical (among other things which comes later) things like tv, cellphones, refrigerators, and even toasters. I was going to do lights as well and basically have her live by candlelight, but decided against it. She's trying to keep it secret, and I think the candles would be a red flag. To anyone really. So for the sake of the story, she's okay with lights. now, ONNNNNNWAAARD!**

* * *

**A Smile with Death**

"That Adele is such a nice young lady." Mrs. Hudson cooed, placing a tea tray in front of John who gave a quiet nod, nurturing the piping hot liquid.

"Mm-hm, a bit of a shut in though." He said, recalling how Adele rehearsed every day exactly alike. She got up at exactly five every morning, had coffee, read the funnies –John had personally sifted his newspapers for them to give to her, and at six o'clock sharp left for work with a small loaf of bread to feed the ducks. Once home she'd sit outside for an hour, smoke a pack and then headed inside quietly for the rest of the evening.

"Well, yes. But there's nothing wrong with that. She's just a quiet girl who enjoys simple things." Mrs. Hudson replied. John nodded, recalling when he had first learned of Adele feeding the ducks at the pond. Most people didn't go out of their way to feed ducks anymore, if at all.

"I like to feed them." Adele said one morning, "It doesn't seem like anyone else does during the week. It's like a nice treat."

"I am thinking!" Sherlock grumbled from the sofa, "Shut it."

"What're you thinking about?" John asked from across the room, his flatmate laid out board straight on the sofa, hands pressed together while the tips of his fingers rested on his mouth. Not a single muscle twitching.

"Suicides." The detective grunted, looking as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "You mean the ones on the telly?"

Sherlock threw his hands up in aggravation, causing Mrs. Hudson to jump a little, tea sloshing on her cream colored blouse.

"Of course the ones on the bloody television!" Sherlock crossed the room, pacing all frantic like.

"It's a shame that they're dead, yes. But I didn't think you'd be that upset about it." John replied looking up at the lean man quizzically.

"Who cares that they're expired? They're dead for Pete's sake! It's _how _they died that interests me."

"They committed suicide."

"Wrong! It was murder!" John glanced at Mrs. Hudson, who'd been dabbing at her shirt for a good long while, she was more loss than he was.

"Dear God. What is it like in your funny little brains? It must be so boring." John resisted the urge to slap the consulting detective. He really could be an aggravating prick. Without waiting for an answer Sherlock turned on his heel, grabbed his jacket and scarf, and made for a dramatic exit.

* * *

_**Adele Banks**_

I slowly turned the 'invite' card in my hand. John had come by to invite me to dinner in his apartment with himself, Mrs. Hudson, and Sherlock.

"Mrs. Hudson usually puts on a great show. Think of it as a welcoming party Sunday is fine yeah?" He said to me kindly, the edges of his eyes creasing with friendliness. It was exciting to go to a party I'd actually been invited to. Your brother and sister's birthdays didn't count. Nor did Christmas or Thanksgiving count either. Those were sort of mandatory if you lived at the place the party was taking place. I decided that I'd get some wine and maybe a cheesecake or something. I couldn't cook worth my life for two reasons:

One: My stove was electric range. I just couldn't for the life of me use an electric range stove. What if it sent communications to the government about what I was doing?

Two: Even if my stove was gas, I learned early on that cooking wasn't my thing. I burned half of my mom's kitchen down-Ramen is not 'instant' ready by the way. Those instructions are lies. Regardless, I raised her insurance, and for a good few months we cooked off of a tiny camping gas stove. Cooking was just a firm 'NO' when it came to me.

I slunk onto the streets, making sure I had a good string of hours left for daylight and happily walked to the store. As the usual it was cloudy out, but I didn't mind. It made me feel like I was blending in. Here I could prowl the streets without the anxious stares, I was actually normal here. It was awesome.

Skipping happily I teetered into the small grocery store. Cautiously avoiding the freezer isle with all the cold fridges and the bright gauging lights. I was afraid of falling in. I quickly grabbed the cake, hoping it was enough for everyone and then the wine, as well as some rice cakes and two gallons of bottled water. It was a lot to carry, but I'd manage.

Of course I hadn't counted on it raining. In fact during my short time in the store it had started down pouring.

"What a dilemma." I muttered, staying safe under the tilted roof. "I should have brought an umbrella." Mentally I scolded myself. That would only making carrying the flimsy plastic bags that much harder. As I pondered on what to do a cab pulled over to the side slowly. An older man, maybe in his late-fiftes to mid-sixties hobbled out, flapping open an umbrella.

"Evenin'." He said, golden round glasses tilted on the bridge of his nose. "Where you off to?" I didn't particularly like cars, but I didn't have much of a choice. "221B Baker Street." I replied, gratefully handing the man my bags.

Once inside the warm cab or as the locals called them 'cabbie', The man rolled the car forward, taking off at a slow pace to match the traffic. It was quiet for some time, giving me space to take him in more thoroughly. His hair was white underneath a checkered plaid cap, his chin perhaps had a scar but I wasn't too sure. However the cabbie must have sensed me staring because he glanced back at me, causing me to flush.

"Sorry. I don't mean to stare." I muttered, turning to glance out the window. "It's alright, I've had worse as a cabbie. You American?" I smiled over at him and nodded, not paying much attention to where we were going.

"Yes. I just moved here not that long ago…I'm Adele by the way." He was quiet, like he was debating if he should tell me his name. Which was okay. What was the point of telling a total stranger your name?

"Jeff Hope." He finally said, English accent thick as honey. "What are you doing way over here? A bit far for a young lady to be away from her family." It was polite conversation, and a common one too. But nobody had ever asked me it before. What should I tell him? What could I tell him?

"Well…" I struggled to find my words, absently thinking that the drive seemed longer than the walk. Unbeknownst to me the cabbie was having his own dilemma, clutching a tiny vile of suspicious looking pills.

"…I'm sick." I admitted, causing Jeff to glance at me in the rearview mirror.

"And I wanted to be in a place where people didn't look at me like I'm a ticking time bomb. I wanted to make friends who know me for me and not for the things I carry. I had a twin, Rachel, who was just like me. She killed herself because she was sick, the medicine didn't help her like it helped me. Maybe people expect me to do the same, to dive off the deep end. Sometimes I think they want me to so I don't burden them anymore. But I don't. I want to live. To see the places of the world, to be loved, to love, and most of all to be given a chance as if I were normal. "

* * *

A long drawn silence carried on before the driver spoke, and he chose his words carefully. Honestly I wasn't sure why I had told him that. He was just a cab driver, who'd probably forget my face because he'd seen so many others before me.

"What keeps you going then? If you have no one?" I leaned forward, elbows resting on my knees.

"Hope. A lot of hope." At the red light Jeff turned in his seat to hold me in his gaze. He reminded me of my Grandpa. Who I missed so dearly. "Me too." He said finally, and then we smiled at each other, laughing a little. London was certainly a place to be. The light fluttered green, and the cab revved forward.

"Whoops!" Jeff grunted, pulling into the roundabout. "You'll have to forgive this old man in his age. It appears I got off track talking to you." He made an apologetic face in the mirror.

"It's okay, I'm in no hurry." I replied, letting the scenes pass me by.

I arrived at 221B Baker Street. John was outside, umbrella in hand. He looked relieved to see me.

"Here's your fare." I said pulling the money from my pocket. Jeff held his hand up,

"No worries. I took you way off track anyway. Keep it." Hesitating I slowly nodded, thanking him for the ride and hopped out, John having retrieved my things from the trunk already.

"Oh by the way…" The cabbie called from the window. "I hope you find what you're looking for." With a final goodbye I waved watching the driver pull away hastily.

"What was that about?" John asked, glancing over at me curiously.

"Just a friendly conversation with the cab driver."

"Right. Well, we were worried about you. Turns out those suicides were murders. All of them." I had no clue what he was talking about since I didn't watch TV, but maybe I should read the paper instead of just reading the comics.

"Really?" He nodded anxiously, setting my bags on my beat up table. "Yes, don't go wandering around by yourself. Maybe you should stay with Mrs. Hudson for a bit? I have to go out, Sherlock needed me. Said it was urgent." Before I could say anything he dashed out of the room, feet tromping up the steps.

_Bet he's the murderer. -_Q

_No he isn't. -_Adele

_How would you know? Did you ask? - _Q

_No, I don't need to. -_Adele

_I'm going to scratch out your brains. *scratch* *scratch* -_Q

I reached up, scratching my head roughly, clawing at the back of my neck and then hastily forced my hand down. There was nothing there.

_You're not real. -_Adele

_But maybe you're not either. *scratch* *scratch*-_Q

I rushed to the cabinet, filled to the brim with non-perishables and took a small black box out of hiding. I chanted my mother's mantra under my breath, filing each pill in orderly fashion before shoving them all into my mouth. Before I forgot I smashed the pager's button, tossing it carelessly back into the wooden draw before teetering off to my 'room'.

The only thing that made it a bedroom was the bed pushed into the far corner, the rest was a painting station where I could 'mindlessly' –as mom put it- doodle for hours on end if I had the time. Canvas upon canvas were stacked against each other, some peaked out from under the bed, others were casted out of view in the closet. I was a total stranger to these paintings, because I don't remember when I painted them or why. I just did.

* * *

Hours later I could hear quiet footsteps, John quietly murmuring to who I assumed to be Sherlock. The medicine had lulled me to sleep and I clumsily sat up, dizzy from it's effects. Normally I just stayed asleep once my medicine kicked in, so it was odd that I was awake. I avoided looking at the freshly painted canvas, too ashamed to actually see what I had created. Mostly because I didn't want to see what my jumbled mind was like before my meds kicked in.

I slowly inched towards my front door –that I had left open. Peeking out I could see John who spotted me instantly.

"Oh, sorry Ad-are you okay?" I shuffled, trying to inch one foot at a time, but the ground moved underneath me causing me to grasp at the wall with both hands.

"I'm…oooooookay." I flopped face first into the ground, groaning in pain. Wood flooring was so hard.

"Jesus!" John exclaimed, his heavy feet stomping over. "Help me get her up Sherlock."

"I don't think we should leave her alone." Mrs. Hudson chirped fearfully, "Bring her upstairs."

"There are birds everywhere!" I snorted, falling into darkness.


	3. Chapter 3: Turning Your Gaze

**Thanks super duperly so much to your favs/follows! I love them all! (Yippe my story isn't a total blow!)**

**BrknFire**

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**Lilmarie**

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**NOTE: Being schizophrenic Adele wil say/do/think things in an accusation that often shines the person in question in bad view. While she does actually feel that way, she also doesn't (bare with me here) Her schizpophenia enables her to be able to see it rationally and occasionally she blows it out of proportion, believing that everyone is against her and out to see her fall.**

* * *

**Turning Your Gaze**

He twisted the pen in his fingers, dark eyes casting a thoughtful look around the gloom struck room. Jeff Hope had not seemed like a sympathetic man, and was also highly motivated to complete the jobs. The description of the dead woman did not match the one Hope had previously given him over the phone.

What struck his core? What was it about this girl that Hope had found a common ground with? Allowing her to narrowly escape her death, allowing her to live? Tapping the desk he stared at the black scrawling on the note.

221B Baker Street. Female. Age 20-23. Dark hair, brown eyes –possibly contacts. Thin bodied.

"221B Baker Street, the world is such a small place." Lips curled in a child-like smile.

"But it's filled with endless possibility." Generally he would not care if some woman had-or not- escaped with her life. He was curious that she had meant enough for Hope to pass on a sweet deal for his 'precious' urchins.

"Who are you damsel of 221B?" He hummed, ceasing his tapping a careful sinister look boring into the table. "I suppose I should find out."

* * *

_**Adele Banks**_

An annoying light was blaring in my eye, flashing back and forth. Instinctively my hand swatted the annoyance, slapping it across the face. A face? Shaking my head I sat up, surprised to see a miffed Sherlock there with a tiny flashlight in his hand.

"Right." He grunted. "What did you take and how much?" I stared at him for a long while, not sure what he was talking about until the previous night's events slowly played in my head.

"Oh…unisom?" He didn't buy it, it was clear he didn't buy it, panic rose in me. "John forbids me to snoop. So I shall not 'snoop' –not that I cared to- but if you're going to do whatever it is you're doing then I'd advise a smaller dosage."

"Thanks…" I was relieved that he wasn't going to push it. And while I'd like to get away from him as fast as possible there was something I wanted to know.

"How did you know? That I had a brother and sister?" Sherlock moved away, placing the light on the nightstand, palms pressed together as he stared at me.

"John is your elder, you speak to him with a fondness and respect. Yet at the same time you are comfortable to joke with him and to say what is on your mind. Suggesting an elder brother, one who watched over you and whom you depended on as a child." I blinked at him, slightly alarmed. I sure hope he couldn't guess anything else about me.

"With myself, I too am your elder, and while you hold the same respect you have with John you are aloof, careful to not seem like you are less than me –you are by the way-. Suggesting a sister that you love but are also jealous of. You've basked in her shadow all your life."

"Why on Earth would I be jealous of my sister?" I asked, it was true of course. Cassie was perfect. A shining star wherever she went. Cassie excelled in soccer during high school. While also being cheer captain and class president-four years in a row. Without hesitation she'd been elected prom queen. And offered a scholarship to several schools. Most people had no idea we were related let alone sisters.

"Because, she's everything you're not." Sherlock replied indifferently. I opened my mouth to yell at him, to tell him to bump off or something.

_Slap him in the face, or scratch out his eyes _–Q

_Maybe you should just go cry, isn't crying easier? _–Roach

_Stab him with his light.-Q_

Carefully I inched around him, stiff. He was watching me, electric blue eyes noting my every movement.

"Why don't you like me?"

"I'd have to have a personal opinion of you to dislike you. I have neither a positive nor a negative." Sherlock said instantly, sure of his answer. At least he was honest I thought gloomily. That was more than what most people were to me.

From: "It just makes you unique!" to: "They just don't understand that you're special."

It was lies, all of it. Mom and Dad coddled me as much as possible. I know they were actually disgusted with the weirdo I turned out to be.

I realized that I admired that Sherlock was honest with me. He had no problem telling me what he saw when I asked. He was the first person to hold me in the light that I could handle the truth. And for that I actually liked him in some way.

Maybe that's why it hurt, I thought. Because I liked Sherlock for being frank with me, but at the same time his frankness at how unappealing I was to him hurt.

"You lied by the way." Sherlock said after some silence, glancing at me with a bored look. "You're allergic to snakes not cats. Most people's first choice of collected pets is not 'venomous' snakes."

I grinned at him, "You're right. I'm really allergic to snakes. They give me hives." I was about to laugh, to point at his strange expression when I saw the time.

"Oh my gawd! It's ten o'clock!" I cried, leaping off the bed, nearly knocking Sherlock off his feet.

"Yes, and its Sunday." He replied, watching me flail around the room as I stuffed my feet in my socks.

"I have to feed the duckies!" I called over my shoulder, hurrying into the living room where I snatched a loaf of bread off the counter.

* * *

**Sherlock Holmes**

"They'll be sad if I don't come today! I'll get you another loaf later!" Sherlock watched the girl stomp out of the room, uttering a rushed 'hello and goodbye' to John. He was going to tell her that the ducks probably didn't care if they didn't see her today, and that it was ridiculous to think they'd be sad over it. Then again, animals were surprisingly tuned to schedules. More so than people thought. John stared at the space where the loaf had once rested.

"Did she just knick our bread?"

"Evidently." Sherlock mused, turning to sit in his favorite chair. Who got that worked up over feeding ducks?

"…Well, did you find out what she's taking?"

"You told me specifically not to snoop. She's not going to admit that she's using drugs. She'd not a total idiot." John glared at Sherlock.

"So we just let her abuse narcotics?" Sherlock shrugged, "What does it matter? Like you said. She's our neighbor and we should respect her boundaries. Mrs. Hudson does marijuana and we got along just fine."

"I _told_ you, they are _herbal_ remedies!" The elder woman shrieked from the kitchen, slamming the tea tray down furiously. "And I'm not your housekeeper!"

* * *

_**Jim Moriarty**_

He had planned to slip into the girl's flat, when something much better happened. The girl in question came rushing out of the front door, hair flapping wildly behind her. She looked as if she had just woken up and had slept in those clothes overnight. In her small hands was a loaf of bread.

"Where are you going my dear?" Jim cooed under his breath, following her at a distance. Her movements were jerky, but not so much so that you'd notice it right away. You would have to actually be watching her, and very closely. Something Jim did often, always eager to find new toys to play with.

She jogged for nearly a mile before she reached the pond, apologizing rapidly to the ducks. Jim wasn't overly fond of ducks, they were crap sodden beasts with nothing better to do than to soil the area around them.

"I met a nice cab driver last night." She muttered to the closest duck. Jim wondered if she'd still say that had she known what her fate had initially intended.

"I wonder if he's sick too, we had such a nice time talking." Jim frowned a little. He didn't like broken toys that were close to expiration.

"Maybe we'll meet again and we can talk all about it. Although I'm sure it's no where near as bad as mine." Jim's brows furrowed. Hope had a bloody aneurysm, what could be worse than that? From the side there was a bakery, the fat oaf running the stand wouldn't notice any of the bread missing so he plucked the long bread from the basket, making his way over.

* * *

_**Adele Banks**_

"Hello." I looked up from the ducks. Noticing a man with a burgundy sweater, a white undershirt and plain jeans. His messy hair was as dark as night, matching his eyes. He had a childish but friendly, happy-go lucky grin.

"Hi." I smiled, noticing the bread in his hands. "You don't like the duck feeding type."

"Of course I am." He replied, plopping next to me on the bench.

"Mmm, nope. I come here every day. And I've never seen you." The man snorted leaning over as he did, casting me an amused look with laughter on his tongue.

"Okay, you caught me. I just wanted to talk to you." He pulled a tip of the bread off, tossing it to the ground. We watched as the greedy duck gobbled it up without even tasting the morsel.

"I'm Richard Brooks."

"Adele Banks."

"American I assume?" Richard looked down at me, his gaze holding me with softness. It made me embarrassed to know that I looked so _not _presentable. Had I known I'd run into handsome men I would have dressed myself in some of Cassie's old clothes –she was constantly with the 'it' fashion and passed to me her hand-me-downs. I didn't mind though, it meant I didn't have to do any shopping.

"Yeah, just moved here. You?"

"Nope. Ireland." He didn't sound Irish, but he could have just been someone who moved around a lot. "I'm an actor, so I find work where I can get it. More recently a storyteller for children on television."

"Really!? That's awesome!"

We talked for hours on end, and unlike Sherlock, Richard was both friendly and smart. We talked about our hobbies, places we've been –Richard did the most talking. The most I could tell him was that I went to Seaworld once. I really liked him, he was the first guy to really talk to me about me and genuinely wanted to know.

* * *

_**Jim Moriarty **_

Adele Banks appeared to be nobody of any real importance. He was starting to think he overestimated the cabbie. All the careful sifting, boring conversing, and learning absolutely nothing had appeared to be an utter waste. He was prepared to leave, departing without leaving a single trace of himself when something peculiar happened.

Adele's hand darted up, scratching three times exactly with only her index finger, in precise motion before dropping down to her lap. Moments passed, Jim thought that maybe it was just a fluke. But then she did it again. There were small pregnant pauses between the scratching, lasting about ten to fifteen seconds. More and more she grew restless, looking alarmed.

"Are you alright?" Jim asked, etching worry onto his face effortlessly. "Ah-uh, yes…no…yes?"

_Oh, how I got you._ Jim thought gleefully. The old codger had indeed done him a favor in leaving the little minx alive. Whatever it was that troubled Adele she was adamant that he not know. And Jim didn't want to know, not yet anyway. He wanted to figure it out on his own.

"I should get going. I just realized I was invited to a welcoming party. Mrs. Hudson invited me. She's been nothing but kind to me, I don't want to blow her off." Three more times she stroked her skin, causing a blotchy red mark to appear.

"I see, shall I fetch you a cabbie?" Adele shook her head. "No I can walk. I don't trust cabs."

_Funny, considering you used one yesterday._ Jim thought evilly.

"Would you like me to walk you home?" Her head jostled, looking slightly panicked.

_Remarkable._ Jim mused with interest, steadying her. In just a few hours she was someone entirely new.

"Thank you. But I can walk from here." Adele murmured her face faltering.

"Alright. Here's my number. Call me sometime for lunch or perhaps dinner." His hand hovered over hers, stroking the soft skin as he placed his 'Richard Brooks'

* * *

_**Adele Banks**_

I took the number, happiness flooding my body. Nobody had ever traded numbers with me before. Which raised the question as to how I would call him. but I figured that that would come later. If only I had brought my meds with me today. Something I did if I knew I was going to be staying out for a long time.

This moment would have been glorious had I not realized how late it actually was. Nearly dark out. With a hasty goodbye I pranced away, keeping to the far side of the sidewalk, away from the curling shadows that twisted and pulled against itself.


	4. Chapter 4: Know Me

**OOOKKKIEE DOOOOKKKIE I decided to put out two chapters because felt the last chapter was getting to be a bit long and wanted to break it up. This won't happen all the time since I would at least like to make sure people area actually following the story before putting out a lot of stories at once. Not sure how I feel about this chapter though. I kinda feel like it could be better. But I definitely wanted Sherlock and OC to have more interaction.**

**NOTE: Roach is perceived as just an 'it' (no gender or form) and is the one with erratic emotions.**

* * *

**Know Me**

_**Jim Moriarty**_

Many times Adele glanced back to see who was following her, many times Jim thought she had seen him. But she looked through him rather than directly at him. Her eyes like a deer in front of a speeding car. When she finally did get to her flat he watched her silhouette roam through her house, flipping on every single light. In the kitchen she rummaged through the pantry, her body blocked by the wobbly door. She was bent over, muttering something under her breath and as quickly as possible her hand swiped over her mouth before gulping down a mouthful of water from a jug. He waited for her to leave, grabbing a cake and wine as she hurried upstairs. Once the coast was clear, Jim slipped inside.

* * *

_**Adele Banks**_

Mrs. Hudson really could 'put on a great show'. Her roast was delicious. I didn't eat meat often, unless it was canned because of my shitty cooking skills. But I absolutely enjoyed it whenever I could. I had knotted my hair up on my head, while loosely wrapping a scarf around my neck to cover the puffy skin underneath. Other than that a plain wool sweater and jeans looked simple enough while not appearing sloppy.

I skipped taking the Prolixin altogether, not wanting to fall asleep at a party. I wasn't hallucinating or anything so I figured I'd be okay without it for a little while.

"So Adele, tell us about your family." Mrs. Hudson asked, forking more food onto my plate despite me not finishing the previous food.

"Well, dad is an accountant and my mom's a lawyer. Jeff –my brother he's a small time politician, nothing big yet. And Cassie…." Cassie is perfect. Beautiful, married with kids, and becoming a super model. I almost felt Sherlock's eyes on me.

"Mrs. Hudson, the roast is achingly dry. You put too much salt." The hawk eyed man said, causing the older woman to forget me, having a fit. I looked at Sherlock, regarding him with thanks that he didn't seem to notice in the slightest.

I was having so much fun, we laughed –except Sherlock. We chatted –except Sherlock and overall had a great time –except Sherlock who moped around with his violin in hand.

"Well I best get to bed, really am too old to be up this late." Mrs. Hudson yawned followed by John. And then it was just Sherlock and I.

* * *

"Thanks…for earlier. I really appreciated it."

"Don't mention it." He muttered as if people rarely complimented him. I inched closer leaning over the chair to see what he was looking at. They were photographs of graffiti splotched onto a portrait, some of the excess neon yellow running down in crooked lines.

"Do you mind?" Sherlock clipped, turning his head only to be shocked at how close the girl was. She was close enough for him to catch a small glimpse of the red mark on the nape of her neck, which would explain why she'd worn the scarf. Adele didn't look like the easy type. To allow a total stranger to give her a hickey. Then again what did he care?

"No. Not really. So what do you do for a living anyway? Besides shooting your walls." I recalled how occasionally at odd hours of the night he would fire off rounds into the dark patterned wall. Leaving me laying paranoid in bed.

"I am a consulting detective." Sherlock responded grumpily. Not offering much after that.

"So you solve mysteries? Like Scooby Doo?" The detective pursed his lips. She was being mighty talkative today. Perhaps it was who she met earlier on that made her feel so confident.

"No, I solve crimes."

"What kind of crimes?"

"Murder mostly."

Slowly I slunk onto the chair with him, squashing him to the side as he gave me a have-you-not-heard-of-this-spectacular-thing-called-personal-space? Fortunately, I haven't. What was that anyway?

"Neat. I read murder books."

"Not the same thing." Sherlock corrected, how was he going to be able to focus with this girl breathing down his neck? She was worse than Mrs. Hudson.

"I didn't say it was. I was implying that it's something we have in common." Sherlock opened his mouth, ready to retort that simply because she read murder books didn't mean they have something in common, but closed it firmly shut. Whatever he said now would just go right over her head. Adele's eyes were kind of faraway like she was daydreaming. Her head slowly turned, prodding the papers with her fingers.

"You should take notes from all of your cases. In extent detail so that you have something to relate to later on if you need it."

"John does that. He calls it a blog. Rubbish really. Why hold onto pointless information?" Adele shrugged, smelling of vanilla.

"It's pointless now, but you never know. It could become important." Sherlock blinked, contemplating. Generally solved cases never became important afterwards. Instead he turned away, to concentrate at the matter at hand.

"Who are you anyway? Beside's Sherlock the detective?" With a heavy sigh he once again focused on me.

"Why do you insist on filling your head with pointless information?" I smiled at him, because it was nice to know what it was like for people 'not' like me.

"That's the thing. Not everyone sees it as pointless." I motioned between the both of us. "Between you and I, the concept of importance can vast little to greatly. And for me, knowing what it's like for everyone is something I love. It's all I have." Sherlock tilted his head in wonderment. Speaking slowly, as if he were talking to a naive child.

"Why don't you try figuring it out for yourself? Make a deduction about me. It's not hard."

* * *

**Sherlock Holmes**

A rueful smile ghosted her face, eyes once more coming out of focus. "It's hard when you don't know what you're looking for." What was that supposed to mean? Knees drawn tightly into her stomach she rested her head back, leaning slightly on his shoulder.

"How is it hard?" He asked, trying to not get her hair into his mouth.

"Because I don't know what I'm looking at." Adele yawned, eyes drawing shut. "You have to know to see."

She dozed off eventually, her full weight baring down on him like he were a squishy mattress. He wondered idly what she meant by that. But there were other pressing matters to deal with…as soon as he figured out how to get from under her.


	5. Chapter 5: Plots of Corruption

**Okay! Sorry this one took a little longer to get out than the others, I got a tad bit side-tracked with another story I am working on. I watched Startrek into the Darkness the other day and was like: ERMEHGHERRRRD dat Khan! Lol yes I love Benedict Cumberbatch….it's a problem hehe.**

**I am so happy by the way, with how many people have fav'd/follow'd! It's not as much compared to other stories, but it still makes me so happy and excited! You guys make me feel like that one meme where the guy is leaning way back with his face squished up going: "AWWWWW YEAH" Anywho Thanks sooooo much to the following:**

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* * *

**Plots of Corruption**

"Alright Sherlock I'm off. I'll be back around-" John had woken up early for his new job at the clinic. Of all the strange things he'd slowly grown accustomed to seeing while being the detective's flatmate, this wasn't something he expected.

"Have you been there all night? Like that?" Adele was squashed in the odd chair- that was really too small to hold two people, with Sherlock crushed to the side. He looked extremely uncomfortable and stiff.

"For someone so small, she's surprisingly heavy." The detective grumbled. Adele sprawled over his shoulder, like she were a cat, legs tangling with his, while her hair tickled his face. She was an audaciously annoying girl the detective thought, John staring at him clearly bemused to this torture.

"If I were in your shoes, I wouldn't be complaining." John muttered enviously recalling all of his dates that Sherlock scared away. Fortunately he had a sense of modesty. "Here, I'll help her off you."

"No don't she-!" John grunted as he heaved her up, Sherlock bracing himself for the inevitable. Her arms tangled around his neck in a furious choke hold, tightening as John lifted her.

"John-!" Sherlock squirmed, "John! Augh! You're…choking me!" Once John realized this he of course ceased pulling, letting Adele's body topple onto the floor, with Sherlock on top. It was quite comical.

"Just a moment." John smiled to Sherlock's disgruntled look, pulling out his phone to snap a picture. "This is priceless."

* * *

_**Adele Banks**_

There was a furious muttering, and I felt heavy, as well as warm. When I peeked my eyes open I was surprised to see Sherlock's face inches from mine. Likewise, he seemed just as surprised to see me awake.

"There is a rational explanation for this." Sherlock attempted, only to be cut off.

"What are you doing!?" I barked, slapping him hard across the face. "Shame on you! I wasn't even drunk!"

"Say chesse!" John snickered, phone in hand. Oh, I loved pictures! I pulled the unwilling detective closer, grinning wildly.

"Cheese!"

I got back to my apartment eventually, having a heated argument with Sherlock since he had called me in sick.

"I was doing you a favor!" He exclaimed in disbelief.

"You should have woken me up!"

"I bloody tried that!"

"Yeah!...Well…You shouldn't have called me in sick!"

I tapped my finger to my mouth. "Maybe I was too harsh. He did help me after all...and let me use him as a pillow." I decided that I would apologize to him later, for being upset and slapping him. Maybe he wouldn't mind having dinner with me? There were a number of places to go eat. Pacing into the kitchen I grabbed an apple and rice cracker, munching mindlessly when I saw Richard's business card on the table.

A tiny glimmer of excitement glimpsed my face, that was quickly wiped away when the thought of me actually calling him came to mind. How was I going to call him? I didn't have a phone, cellphones and all phones were creations built to monitor all people no matter what, but if I could really hit it off with Richard then wouldn't it be worth it? Shakily I clutched my squishy sweater and decided to find a pay phone.

* * *

_**Jim Moriarty **_

How could Sherlock not possibly see? He had no idea what little treasure lived just below him. The consultant criminal swiveled at his desk, taking in the stolen items. He had taken three canvases, a scarf, and a tiny vile of assorted pills from Adele's hidden box. To be honest he hadn't expected it to be hidden so well. On top of that, he had found something rather, interesting.

"A twin!" Jim mused, picking up the canvas to admire the disturbing work. There had been only one photograph through the entire house. It was a family photo. It looked ordinary for the most part, like the family posed within. However, upon closer inspection he found that the older man's arm was extended outwards, past Adele's shoulders. When he took the frame apart Jim was surprised to see that the picture had been bent, folded over to conceal another person, an identical girl to Adele. She was different though, instead of brown eyes they were bi-colored of blue and a darker shade of blue, her face was tilted, smudged as if she had looked away at the last minute. Her mouth was slightly parted, eyes emotionless and unblinking. Her right hand was lifted, the same way Adele's had been last night, scratching in simple strokes. Of all the relatives Adele had mentioned, she did not mention a second sister, let alone her twin. Why would she keep it hidden? It was clear that this twin was not together as Adele was. So what link did they share?

Long into the night Jim had scoured all the archives he could get his hands onto, he suspected that whatever it was that plagued Adele was not physical. Frustration had built in him, there were hundreds and thousands of disorders. It wasn't until he had started researching the meds he had found was he given a real glimpse into what Adele's world really looked like, and he liked it very much indeed.

"My my my, you really are a deranged whack job aren't you?" Jim mused, a sly chuckle escaping him. "But that's okay my damsel, because I'm just as bad."

The phone rang twice before the consultant plucked it from it's stand.

"Yes?"

"H-Hello? Uhm, Richard?" Jim's smile broadened, "Adele! I'm so happy you called…" There was so much potential fun with this girl, he just needed to break her from her 'dependance' and gain her trust.

* * *

_**Adele Banks**_

I shifted on the balls of my feet, glancing up and down the street nervously, waiting for the black van to snatch me.

"I-I was wondering, if, uhm- you'd be interested in dinner?" My words were rushed and kind of sloppy. I felt the buzzing from the phone, jittering around, plotting my demise.

"Of course!" Richard replied, he sounded different over the phone. "I know many places we can go to, how about I pick you up and we can go there around eight?" I was happy to get off the phone, muttering a quick goodbye and hurrying away from the overused payphone. I needed to wash my ears to get all the phone babies out of my head.

* * *

_**Sherlock Holmes**_

A package had come, with no return address, labeled only 'Of no Importance'. Inside was a scarf, hand-made most likely, perhaps by a mother or grandmother, and was well loved by whoever the owner was. There were three small canvases. All painted with graphic violence yet at the same time having no real plot or scenario, none resembling the other, from the strokes to the style itself, it was all different. Not even the paint was the same nor the brand. The only similarity was the canvas.

There was also a jumbo book of disease, ranging from minor to severe. It was brand new, untouched with the exception of a photograph of the process of lycanthropy transformation with a brief description. It puzzled Sherlock, since lycanthropy was a total myth, legend to scare the children into behaving. It clearly had no place in a book of hard fact, but clearly whoever sent it, believed so.

From below he saw Adele, dressed in a sleek black dress, hair left down and slightly curled at the ends. He was surprised that she had could have actually found a date. Whoever he was must have been as equally boring. But whoever 'he' was Sherlock couldn't tell, he was hidden underneath the umbrella.

Turning away he looked back to the box, what could be of no importance but held importance?

"It's clearly a 'someone'." He said, turning the scarf in his hands, staring at the paintings. "With something." The real questions where: who, what, and why.

Onto of the new string of cases that steadily flowed in Sherlock wondered if there was any connection. The black car rolled away, Adele glancing up from the window, giving Sherlock a brief smile and wave before she was out of sight.

"Of no importance?" Sherlock muttered.

* * *

**Okay! From here things are gonna get a bit more dramatic, and perhaps even violent depending on how I decide to write this. Figure I should give a warning here as well as in the next chapter. Adele didn't do much in this chapter because it was mainly about Sherlock and Jim. Also instead of following along exactly with the episodes I'm going to skip forward a bit, around where Irene Adler shows up. Thanks again so much for reading! hope you comment/fav/follow! Until next time! BUH-BYE!**


	6. Chapter 6: Lycanthropy

**Please do not impale me with whatever objects you find because this chapter has a bit of drama/disturbance/and some mush. I'd call this a catalyst chapter. Also, Adele's parents are religious, but she is not. Not saying she doesn't believe in a higher power, just that she has no preference. **

**'Schizo' is a shortened term to describe someone with Schizophrenia, sometimes it's used in a derogatory manner. **

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Rachel is another one of Adele's voices and takes form as her deceased twin. She is the brooding type, always questioning in a mournful manner. Maybe manifested from Adele's sense of loss of losing her twin suddenly as well of a feeling of loneliness. Probably is the nicest but at the same time is the one that has dark thoughts of suicide and bitterness.**

**THANKSSSSS SOOOOO MUCH TO THOSE WHO HAVE FAV'D AND FOLLOWED! It makes me so happy! I wish I could put in a giant creepy smiley emoticon to show you how happy it makes me. Think overly-attatched-girlfriend. To the following!: **

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* * *

**Lycanthropy**

**Adele Banks**

I giggled for what seemed like the hundredth time that night. It'd been a few weeks now since we had met, and things really took off from there. Going steady wasn't like I thought it'd be. I expected there to be a lot of mushy goo-goo gaga romance, -like Cassie's which had been-flowers, romantic love letters, boxes of chocolates, you get the point okay?

But Richard wasn't anything like that. We did do romantic things like walk through the parks, or dinner by candle-light, and we often read from our favorite books, discussing what we liked/disliked. It was a lot of fun. And even though Richard wasn't really into ducks, he met me every morning to feed them. There was just that one thing that kept getting in the way. The big 'S'. I was afraid to tell Richard. Most people didn't react well, I was afraid he'd be like everyone else.

"I've never had this much fun before!" I sighed, flopping onto the city bench.

"No? How come?" Richard asked, sitting next to me as his arm draped over my shoulder. I looked into his dark eyes, how could one person be so expressive?

"To be honest, I've never dated anyone, or came close to it. I never even got Valentines cards. After a while I started being home-schooled and you tend to not meet anyone new when you're home-schooled." Jim's finger turned the small jeweled necklace that hung just below my collar bone. A gift he had given me. I'd never seen anything like it, like it was crafted from a different era and should be on display in a fine art and/or history museum alongside the Hope diamond.

"Why not? You're such a great person to be around." I bit my lip, I could feel him gazing at me intensely. We were alone in the plaza, with only the rushing fountain to keep us company. It was now or never, if he had a bad reaction at least nobody else would be around to hear it. Sighing I turned to face him, worry etching over my face.

"Because…I'm not normal." Richard blinked, his brows raised.

"You seem perfectly normal to me." He grinned jokingly, "Do you come from a polygamist family?" Pursing my lips I glared at him sternly. Mom and Dad were very 'traditional Catholics', the thought would kill them on the spot.

"No…and if I am that's news to me as of now, but that's not what I meant anyway." Taking a deep breathe, grabbing heaps of courage because only 'whatever-God-existed', knew I needed it. I quickly went on to explain my 'little' problem, hoping he wouldn't freak out. At the end of it all we sat in quiet silence. Each moment that ticked by was like a needle being plunged into my heart. I was ready to march home and shove my head into ice water and scream

_Oh why!? Oh why!? Oh why!?- Roach_

_How can it be!? You should have just not said anything! -Roach_

_All your fault! Yours, yours, yours, yours! – Q_

_Retched bitch! You always mess up everything! Go jump off a bridge and die! –Q_

I resisted the urge to shake my head, tuning those non-existent voices out of my mind.

"Look, I know it's a lot to take in. And I should have told you earlier on…I realize that not many people are okay with dating a Schizo…but I really liked you, and I didn't want you to go away. I'm sorry. It was really selfish." I stood up abruptly, I could cry when I got home.

"No! Wait!" Richard jumped up, linking our fingers together. "I'm just surprised I didn't notice. I started studying psychology not long ago." He smiled softly, brushing the hair out of my face. "It doesn't change how I feel about you.

And further our relationship ventured, me excited, not realizing what I was stepping into. Richard, a veil of confusing webs smiling along to his plans.

* * *

_**Sherlock Holmes**_

The games had gotten more and more ridiculous, each more daunting than the last. On top of that, pictures of random objects were being sent to the detective, further blackening his mood. He still had not figured out the connection of the objects and the pictures only made it more confusing. One was of an empty and unpowered refrigerator, paint splatters on a rather old looking floor, and a book of Alice and Wonderland.

"What does it mean!?" Sherlock growled, he of all people hated useless information. And that's what it all seemed like. It wasn't in his nature to give up, but he had concluded that it was all a bunch of rubbish, sent to throw him off his real work, until a letter arrived to him. Like the rest, it was left blank, address pressed out in red ink from an automatic stamp.

"Another one is it?" John asked from the recliner. "That's the fourth one this month." Side-glancing the doctor, Sherlock ripped the page open. Bold letters with ill-intent screamed out at him:

**My next victim. How much time can you buy?**

Sherlock's brows knitted together. What could it possibly mean? What did the person want or hope to gain by sending this? A soft laugh carried through the hall and up the stairs.

"Shut the door John. She's breaking my concentration."

"She just got here, she'll be in her flat in a bit." John said curtly, not looking from his paper. No she wouldn't. Sherlock thought agitatedly. She always came up to say hello to John and to ask how his day went.

"You're just hoping she'll have an unfortunate fall through with whomever she's dating so that you may 'swoop' in and pick up the pieces." John pursed his lips, lifting his paper higher so that he could tune out the detective.

"That's not true."

"Yes it is." Sherlock drawled.

"Hello." Adele chirped from the doorway, smile on her face as was the usual these days.

"How was your day John?" The Watson turned in his chair hoping the heat on his face didn't show, returning the favor.

"Quite well. A bit stuffy and dull but otherwise okay." Adele nodded "That's good." Her dark eyes looking over the towering man in his dark purple dress shirt. She was as awkward as Molly.

"Hi Sherlock."

* * *

_**Adele Banks**_

He never talked to me. I don't know why I bothered greeting him.

"Goodbye." He responded promptly. I resisted the urge to snap at him. Why was he so rude to me? I don't recall doing anything to him as of late. I apologized to him about the sleeping and slapping thing to which he accepted without any hard feelings –or at least I thought so.

_Gut him! Gut him like a pig! Choke him with his innards! –Q_

_You be quiet! I've been easy on the Prolixin but if you misbehave I'll lock you up! – Adele_

I felt silly scolding my subconscious, because the voices and emotions wasn't real yet they felt so real that it was consuming of both my physical and mental energy. There were days when I had to sit there and attempt to grasp my concept of reality.

"You're still standing there I see." Sherlock prompted, not looking up from his work. "John is the one entirely interested in you, though I've taken the liberty in pointing out your seemingly rash relationship."

The doctor huffed, slapping the newspaper on the end table and stood up in a stiff manner, fists bouncing at his sides as he struggled for the words to find.

"Nope, uh-uh. You are not going to do that!" He seethed, "I'm going to go and stretch my legs." Not looking at me, he left and I turned to give the detective a pointed look.

"Why do you do that?!" I snapped, I liked John. He was really kind. I had no idea how he put up with Sherlock's abusive tendencies.

"He is your friend! Why are you so mean?!" Sherlock looked unfazed, not even bothering to cast me a sideways glance.

"I have no friends." I probably should go, it was getting closer to that time where I needed to take my meds, and since I hadn't been taking full dosages I felt a little 'fuzzy'.

"Oh that is rich!" I spat, waving my hands around dramatically.

_Pull yourself together girl! -Adele_

"Mr.-I-have-no-friends-so-I-can-be-all-dark-gloomy-and-mysterious!" Sherlock looked up, mildly surprise. She shouldn't be that upset.

"I do not feel the way you ordinary people feel. Therefore I have no need for friends." If the detective thought the girl's eyes couldn't get any bigger he was certainly wrong.

_Slap him! Slap him hard! Break his nose, and bust his lip! –Q_

_Insensitive! –Roach_

_Why would he say that? He has no idea what it's like for us! Us freaks! We never had any friends.–Rachel _

"Ordinary!?" I heaved, stomping forward, ramming my finger into his chest. "I am anything _but_ ordinary!" My emotions swelled and tore through me, splattering together in a mess of confusion. On top of that I hadn't heard from Rachel in so long that it shocked me. I thought she had disappeared about a year ago when we got into an argument.

* * *

"You keep telling yourself that." Sherlock mused, and like a cord snapping under straining weight, I leaped out, shrieking as I tackled the considerably bigger man to the floor.

"Take it back! Take it back! All of it!" Down, down, down, darkness swallowed me. The room loomed, distorted and not at all like it's warming self. Doors curved, monsters on the inside, clawing to get out. Rachel was standing in the corner. Her nose was precisely an inch from the crook of the wall. Arm lifted up and behind her back as she pulled the collar of her bloody shirt backwards. Any movement I made was jerky, sloshing in my brain that was melting over and over. My eyeballs rocked on an ocean, filled to the brim with things I couldn't see. Wasn't Sherlock here a minute ago? I called him, but no answer. I looked for him but I was achingly alone.

* * *

_**Sherlock Holmes**_

They clattered to the floor, her fist hitting him once, twice, three times, all in which were very painful. She was screaming things that no longer made any sense.

"23! 55! 7! Rachel!Outwards, in!" He'd gripped Adele's arms, latching to her wrists so tightly that they'd begun to bruise. Where's John when you needed him?

"Adele! Adele! Can you hear me?" Sherlock forced the convulsing woman off of him, pinning her to the ground where he stared down at her stone-stiff face. Only the whites of her eyes showed, iris's rolled so far back he thought they'd get stuck. The box of miscellaneous items had tumbled down, the lycanthropy picture slumping down.

"It was a metaphor." Sherlock muttered. Reading the script

'_Lycanthropy, where an ordinary man of ordinary mind will become feral, vicious, and erratic in the form of a crazed wolf-man.' _The scarf had initials stitched into the end. A.B.B. Up until sherlock had paid no mind to them, he of course assumed them to be names. But the scarf was of neutral color, it could belong to man or woman. Come to think of it, the consultant thought. What was Adele's middle name? He was sitting on her chest, arms pinched beneath his legs as her clawed for her purse, ripping out he wallet. in the front pocket was her I.D, written in bold was her name. Adele Bianca Banks. Adele was howling loudly, her voice becoming hoarse. Her hips bucked and thrashed, as she moaned in pain. She had been slamming the back of her head repeatedly.

"It's you." He breathed. "You're the victim."

**Starting after this chapter I am going to be releasing one every Thursday. I may do one at the beginning of the week, perhaps Monday. For now though, I think one chapter a week is good.**


	7. Chapter 7: Heart to Heart

**At this point I honestly would say that Jim doesn't love Adele, but has an unhealthy infatuation with her (similar to that of Sherlock) but he can easily play her by the 'lover' method because it's something she desperately wants and even needs to some degree, and will hold onto it even if she knows it's unhealthy.**

**Aniscoria:**** is a condition where the pupil of one eye differs in size from the pupil of the other. Your**** pupil**** is the black circle in the center of your eye. The pupils of your eyes are usually the same size. **

**AUTHORS NOTE:**** Schizophrenia runs in families and has a high heritability rate among identical twins, upward of 80 percent. (I do want to do small informative info about Schizophrenia, because I want to raise awareness for it)**

**Thank you soooooo much to the following/favs!:**

**panicstorm**

**foreveryours96**

**LilyxSevani**

**rebecca-nichols-58 (wouldn't let me use periods sorry!)**

**Dark-Eyes-Of-Amethyst**

**Doctor394**

**L-Lover **

**Minoux28**

**Jade Author**

* * *

**Heart to Heart**

Sherlock had managed to drag his neighbor to his bedroom, tying her down and taping her mouth shut.

"What's all the fuss about?" Mrs. Hudson asked, staring through the front doorway.

"Porno." Sherlock grunted, punching a number into his phone. Some time ago he had sent the scarf to Molly, which had come back with results with tiny traces of blood. He had nicked Adele's skin, dropping the crimson liquid onto a glass test plate, he wanted to be 100% sure that Adele was indeed the person in question, once he established that he could deduce what was wanted with her. Mrs. Hudson frowned, hurrying away from the flat.

"If you're going to watch such…vulgar…films. Please do it more quietly!" Ignoring his housekeeper/land-lady he waited for the other line to pick up.

"Molly? I need a favor." He stared back to where his bedroom would be. "Keep the lab open. I've got some researching to do."

Hanging up, he moved to the back room. Adele had stopped her flailing around, her body having gone completely stiff. Something glimmered on her face, upon closer inspection the detective realized it was a contact. Gently lifting the fragile piece of silicone up Sherlock also lifted her lid, her eye was blue, and while her pupil was not dilated it was smaller than it should have been. Moving to the other eye, the results were the same to some degree as far as coloring went, un-dilated pupil of a dark shade of blue. The pupil was larger than the other, like she were blind or something. Aniscoria. A rare condition caused either from birth or developed overtime from a various number of things such as seizure, aneurysm, migraine, or head trauma. Most likely Adele was born with it since she was hiding it.

"Adele. Can you hear me?" Sherlock called softly, squeezing her wrist for a pulse. No response. He decided to leave her here. There were questions that needing answering, he couldn't stay here for that to happen. Pulling the drapes tightly shut, Sherlock dimmed the lights and shut the door. Exiting the flat he tapped his phone expertly to John Watson:

_Going to the Lab. Come if convenient. –S.H_

_If Inconvenient, come anyway. –S.H_

John stared down at his phone and sighed heavily. So much for a relaxing night at the pub.

* * *

_**Jim Moriarty**_

His plan was rolling along so well that he could dance with glee. Finally Sherlock realized the trouble with Adele Banks. The fun was truly beginning. Replacing Adele's psychosis meds with placebos had been a brilliant idea. He loved watching her violence in action. Attacking without a care in the world.

"Sweet little damsel, we'll shake this world together." Jim's own psychotic smile plastered to his face as he hummed 'Ring around the Rosie'

"Ashes, ashes. We all fall down." He waited for Sherlock to leave, making his way into the building and climbing the flight of stairs. Inside the flat it was deathly quiet, the room wrecked as if a hurricane had blown through. But it had, his own personal little hurricane. Jim sauntered to the back room where he knew Adele would be. He found her strapped tightly to the bed, mouth taped in silver duct tape.

Gingerly the consultant criminal sat on the bed loosening the bindings on her wrists so that he could lift her up. Adele's eyes were open but heavy-lidded and out of focus. From his pocket Jim produced a capped syringe, a clear liquid sloshing on the inside.

"Prolixin, to keep the creepies away."

"Lexapro so you don't get the frownies."

"Lithium so you don't fall off your rocker."

"And Depakote! So Adele doesn't do the silly willies."

Pulling Adele into his chest, Jim pulled the cap off tapping the air bubbles out and lifting Adele's shirt. Expertly prodding the designated spot on her back. Most people believed that a syringe could only be dealt into the arms, which was entirely false. There were many places to use a needle. Arms were just the most convenient and easiest to use. Other accessible places were the sides of your lower back, outer thighs, heels of the foot, and the abdominal region surrounding the belly button. With knowledgeable lithe, Jim pressed the skin tight, pushing the needle in and squeezing the cocktail into Adele's blood stream.

5, 10, and 15 minutes passed, ever so slowly the tenseness washed away from her shoulders and limbs. Adele's lips released a soft sigh, head rolling back as her eyes fluttered shut.

"Good night damsel." Jim cooed, putting everything back to the way it was before exiting the apartment. Texting the 'clean-up crew' to debug Adele's apartment. No doubt Sherlock would go snooping around.

* * *

_**Adele Banks**_

I woke up in Sherlock's bed. My head pounded like I'd been drinking all night. Everything that happened last night was a blur.

"_Damsel…"_ Damsel? Where did that even come from? I hadn't noticed Sherlock sitting adjacent to me until he cleared his throat, speaking clearly.

"For future reference, you shouldn't sleep with your contacts on." Jumping in the bed I looked over at him.

"Oh my god! What happened to your face!?" I leaped off the comfortable blanket, patting his face with a steady carefulness.

"I got into a row." He replied quickly, swatting my hand away. "There's much to discuss, so sit." Like a puppy waiting for a pat on the head I sat on the edge of the bed.

"Your aniscoria, is it from birth or did it develop?" Instinctively my hands touched my eyes. How did he know about that? As if he could read my mind, Sherlock lifted a little glass that had water sitting on the bottom with my contacts swimming around.

"How did you-!?"

"Answer the question." Sherlock snapped impatiently.

"At birth."

He nodded, scribbling it down on a pad. With a quick glance his sharp eyes pierced me.

"What medications do you take?" I glared at him, "That's none of your business."

Sherlock did not want to let Adele in on the suspicion of her being watched. It would only further distress her. The bruises on his face were proof that a distressed schizophrenic was not at all healthy. So instead he made up a quick lie:

"Someone broke into your house last night and you had an episode. John was there to prevent the crook from snatching anything. Lestrade has further investigated into it to make sure nothing was taken." Despite the whole 'Not our division' thing he constantly said, Lestrade had done it out of favor to Sherlock and the fact that Sherlock could be an annoying prat when he really worked toward

"Nothing was stolen but Lestrade is looking onto it." Despite the whole 'Not our division' thing he constantly said. But he had done it out of favor to Sherlock and that Sherlock could be an annoying prat when he really worked towards it. At first it had looked clean, but Anderson -Bless his ruddy soul, he had actually done something right for a change, had found that the wall paper was all new in several sections of the flat, revealing splotches where tiny microphones had been placed into the dry wall, filled with nearly dried plaster. Whoever this mysterious stalker was, they were clever and going to the extremes to monitor Adele.

"Right then, medication. How often and how much?" I was sitting there just stunned. I couldn't recall anything. Did that really happen? A shudder crawled along my spine at the thought of an intruder.

"Depakote, Prolixin, Lexapro, and Lithium. All one pill daily." I said finally fidgetting with my shirt, his stare unnerved me.

"When were you diagnosed?" I bit my tongue. I only wanted Richard to know. "Adele, it is extremely-"

"Six. I was six when I was diagnosed." More uncomfortable silence and scribbling.

"Lastly, who is Rachel?"

* * *

_**Sherlock Holmes**_

Her docile and timid form snapped into a rigid aggressiveness. Her odd eyes thinned, slanting into mean daggers.

"If you want, I can guess who she is, or you can tell me." The detective prompted seriously,

"She was my twin. Unlike me she was born with schizophrenia. She committed suicide two years ago."

"How did she die?"

"She killed herself." Sherlock narrowed his brows, frowning at Adele. "You know what I meant."

Adele looked away, reliving a painful memory.

"I was there when she did it." Her mis-matched eyes scanning for a distraction. "She told me she was getting the bugs out, the ones that lived in her. And she needed to be away from the world to do it."

Adele looked back her mouth pulled tight.

"She cut herself in the stomach, it shouldn't have killed her but it did. She severed her Celiac artery. Rachel bled out before the ambulance could make it."

* * *

_**Adele Banks**_

Sherlock spoke slowly, choosing his words carefully. It was a delicate situation he admitted. Adele was prone to rage filled outbursts –after all his face had felt the full blown wrath of her enraged fists.

"I'll admit…you never gave me reason to suspect that you were schizophrenic…until you attacked my face." Adele smiled, a laugh escaping her lips shakily.

"I guess you underestimated my acting skills…wait what?" I blinked at the detective who waved nonchalantly.

"The row I had, it was with your fists. You had an episode." Oops.

"Oh…my bad brah." I grinned as Sherlock quirked his brows upward. He'd never understand American slang. I watched him stand, cup in hand Sherlock strode over to the window, propping it open with his free hand.

"Hey, what're you doing with that?" I asked leaning on the bed and then crying out as he tossed the water that held my very expensive contacts in them out onto the streets, never to be found again.

"Hey! I need those!" I leaped over, staring hopelessly out the window,

"Not anymore." He replied curtly, setting the cup down on the sill. "What do you mean 'not anymore'!?" I exclaimed angrily, huffing with my hands on my hips.

"I can't go walking around looking like this!" I pointed dramatically at my face, cheeks and ears heated with anger.

"If it makes all the difference," Sherlock said turning to me briefly, giving me a cool once over. "You look better without them. Your eyes are astoundingly unique. You shouldn't be ashamed of them."

What? Was he serious? I quizzically watched the detective leave. Maybe he was the one that needed the meds.

* * *

**ALSOOOOO! I am aware of those who have fav'd/follow'd me as an author! Dis make meh feel much feels in da heart. I accidentally deleted the emails annnnd I cannot view your lovely names personally (AURRRRGH FIX DIS FANFICTION) but you know who you are and you should pat yourself on the should -that pat, that was from me. Thank you. **


	8. Chapter 8: Jim Moriarty

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Some people with Schizophrenia who can function for the most part normally, have reported losing their jobs because their boss finds out about it. Others face being singled out and labeled. While another number of people suffering from Schizophrenia cannot hold a job because of their symptoms. Apart from losing their jobs, many schizophrenics end up homeless and substance abusers. Some sufferers even go as far to do as much as possible to hide their condition in fear of being let off.**

**Thank you so much for fav/following my story:**

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**Special thanks to panicstorm &amp; kie1993! You guys were the first commenters (GOODBYE COMMENT VIRGINITY!) I'm glad to know that the story is going well and that you all are enjoying it!**

* * *

**Jim Moriarty CH 8**

After my episode I found out that I had gotten fired, Sherlock failed to run it by me how long I had been out-two whole days! So now I was back to searching for a job that didn't require me to be around electronics a whole lot –If I'm honest with myself in the next 15-20 years I'm going to be a hobo standing outside the most populated convenience store with a cardboard sign.

On top of that I was going to have a lot of explaining to do to Richard, he knew now of my schizophrenia, but he wasn't fully aware of all the things that went along with it.

I hoped for the best as I jogged up the stairs to Richard's place of work. Reaching the fifth floor I pushed the heavy door open. Inside it was set up to be a child's dream place. Walls painted blue with puffy clouds, a fuzzy rug for lounging and a big squishy chair. In the chair was Richard himself, leaning over as he told a story to a sea of kids, his face was animated, dark eyes somehow as bright as the stars. I waited on the sidelines, not wanting to rush out there looking like an idiot.

I paid no mind to the curious looks thrown my way, it was obvious I didn't belong there, but nobody questioned me and I was grateful when the story time was over. Richard spotted me immediately, rushing over.

"Where've you been…and what's wrong with your eyes?" He demanded. "I stopped by your flat, your land-lady simply said you were sick." I fidgeted, giving a quick glance around, making sure there weren't any electronics close by.

"I lost my contacts…this is how my eyes normally are. I had an episode two days ago. " I spoke faster not wanting to be interrupted, "It wasn't too bad or anything. I was out cold for two days…and I got fired from my job." Richard's shoulders slumped. "Oh god Adele. I'm so sorry. If I had known-"

"It's okay, it's not the first job. At least I lost it because he thought I was being lousy hired help." I recalled the one time my manager completely clammed up upon finding out about the 'S' word, saying the next day they were 'letting people go' due to funds. I was the only one that got fired.

"I tried to explain but he wasn't going to hear any of it." I sighed, casting Jim a sideways glanced who listened quietly. "He didn't believe me anyway, I'm pretty sure he thought I was doing drugs-which is true, just not how he imagined it. So, I'm going to have to find a new job."

We stopped at a small bakery, I got a coffee and he a tea. Richard was staring at me over his cup waiting for me to say more.

"Were you ever picked on?" His question caught me off guard. Back home there were a lot of people that knew me as the 'Wierdo on Bulberry Court' but were actually talking about Rachel since at that time I wasn't sick. After she killed herself we moved once, it was still the talk of the town, about Rachel. It wasn't until a year later that I was diagnosed.

"Well, yes and no. Mom and Dad, didn't really want people to know. So they kept it hidden." Richard cocked his head, his hand laying over mine.

"But?" He always seemed to know that there was something bothering me. It made me love him even more. Whoa. Did I say that?

_You're stupid if you think he loves you. He doesn't. He really doesn't you know. Stop living my life! It's mine! I hate you! Why didn't you die too? Like me? –Rachel_

_Be quiet. I'm living my life. You took yours –Adele_

"When I got sick mom and dad had to spend a lot of time with me. I didn't know how to handle it. I was scared. And I think Cassie got jealous. She took me out with her and her friends. She told me she had my medicine. We got to an old warehouse and she locked me in an old corn chute and banged on the metal. I completely freaked out. I thought there were bugs in my brains eating me. After that, there were few people that did know about it. The kids were told they couldn't say anything. But still, it's not going to stop them from talking."

* * *

I shuddered at the memory. But I didn't blame Cassie, I had read a book about child psychology. She was just acting out, and she never did it again because she had felt horrible for doing it. It was common child behavior for the said child to act out of they felt neglected by their parents. Me being Schizophrenic probably took most if not all of my parent's attention. Although, I didview her differently afterwards, a small part of me had the feeling she was working for the Robot Empire.

"It is noble of you, to forgive your sister." Richard said slowly, placing his cup on the saucer. "Most people would not." His normally placid eyes seemed like a storm was brewing underneath, like something I had said had pushed his nerves.

"Are you okay?" I asked, letting my hand rest on his. "I should have told you about the episodes. I need talk to a psychiatrist about maybe changing my meds…I feel like they're not working."

_Skip, scat, skittering rats! Sneak into your flat!_

_Scratch out your brains, lay babies in your belly!_

_Eat your intestines! Break free and gnaw on your fresh beating flesh -Q_

I resisted the urge to slam my head on the table and claw at the back of my head to rip out the annoying festering 'Q' had been doing. Besides the episode I had been losing sleep, developing insomniac tendencies. 'Q' talked nonstop now, chattering evil thoughts as he wormed his way around my brain. I could almost feel his slick body coiling around it in a parasitic squeeze. Sometimes it made me nauseous. I was worried he'd escape and kill people.

Richard relaxed, lacing our fingers together and bringing our faces together, lips nearly touching.

"I am perfectly fine. Just worried about you. I think you need rest is all. Stress can affect how medications work, you work nonstop at your job. And you're the only one there Adele. You don't know how a new medication will affect you." I bit my lip. I had been working a lot. Besides the manager I was the only one there. Technically I wasn't supposed to be working fulltime.

"I...guess you're right." I mused finally, glancing at him feeling unsure. "I suppose I could take some time off. I have a savings so I can still give Mrs. Hudson her rent."

"You will feel much better I think. Plus you have me now, you're not alone."

I'm not alone…I smiled up at him, I really liked the warmth in my tummy. It felt nice to not be alone.

_Jim Moriarty_

Adele was prancing alongside him, her fingers linked into his. He decided long ago that he liked the wickedness of her eyes, and was glad to see the retched silicone go.

"I really feel like I'm free Richard. No hiding who I am, no being afraid of what people will think." Adele sighed happily, mismatched eyes glimmering. She was so pure in her emotion, and he was deadest on tainting every last drop of it.

We slowed to a stop, Sherlock would be finishing up the last bit of the games, and he needed to kick things in gear. It needed to be a finale, then he could have Adele his damsel of doom all to himself. The world would burn before them, crumbling in ashes at their feet.

"Oh Adele, if only you knew what I would do for you." Adele cocked her head, not understanding his meaning. Because it was more like a _could. _But she did not know Jim Moriarty, his power or prowess as a criminal. But she would, soon, very soon. And then she would be his alone.

"You do a lot for me." She smiled. He pulled her to him, tilting her face up so that he can stare in her endless pools of insanity.

"Not nearly enough my dear. And one day I'll give you a crown." Adele smiled. "A crown would be cool." Then it would be done. But first, he needed to kill someone first. Kissing the girl goodbye, Jim paced the street, a cabbie slammed his breaks, screaming unintelligent words at him.

_-Beacon's Bookstore and Novelty shop, kill the owner. Don't care how it's done. Just tell him the 'schizo' says hello. – J.M_

With a sinister grin Jim tossed the phone in the trash and skipped on to his next destination. It was time to shake things up a bit.

* * *

**_Adele Banks_**

When I got inside my flat, I hadn't been there for nearly five minutes when Sherlock came bursting through the door looking disheveled.

"Has anyone been here?" He asked quickly, storming around the apartment in search of someone.

"No? Just me and Mrs. Hudson. Were you expecting anyone?"

"No."

"No? Then why-"

"You might not be safe here."Sherlock interjected, his usually calm features knitted in concentration.

I blinked, "What are you talking about Sherlock? I've been here nearly two months and I'm perfectly fine –sort of."

"I don't have time to explain, but you can't stay here." He grabbed my arm, pulling me out the door and out of 221B.

"Where's John?" I asked looking for the dusty blonde who was normally in sight of Sherlock.

"He's on a case. But we're on one too." All through the streets we ran and ran. I was no freaking track star either. I thought my lungs were going to collapse inside of me. We reached a brick building that smelled like humid air and chlorine. Once inside we found a pool,

"Our case -is swimming?" Sherlock glared at me. "Don't be stupid." He snapped.

"Evening." We looked over, and saw John, he was wearing a puffy green jacket. I wondered why. Was this a sort of inside joke? Did English men/women wear stuffy coats in uncomfortably hot pool rooms?

"This is a turn on isn't it Sherlock?" I glanced back and forth between the men, they were gay? Why didn't I ever notice that?

"John…" Sherlock breathed, face etched in disbelief, his hand clutching a memory stick. "Uhm, do you guys want me to wait outside? I can...you know wait. No need to do whatever it is you…want to do in front of me." John's lips pursed as if to say 'we're not gay', but instead with a bleak expression said:

"I bet you never saw this coming."

"Can someone please tell me what's going on?"

"Shut up Adele." Sherlock muttered, walking forward slowly, our hands still attached. As we inched closer John began to pull his jacket open, revealing an explosive vest with a red dot hovering just over it in the middle of his chest.

"What…would you like me to say next?" John's face wavered, the inevitable possibilities hanging over his head.

"John!" I gasped, hands flying to my mouth. I ran to help him, but Sherlock forced me to hang back, his crystal eyes staring down the walkway. "Gottle of geer, gottle of geer, gottle…"

"Stop it." Sherlock snapped, his eyes skimming through his surroundings. I stood warily behind the detective, small fist bunching the hem of his coat. I had a horrible feeling in my stomach. But I couldn't leave no matter how much I wanted to.

"Nice touch this, the pool. Where little Carl died. I stopped him." John squeezed his eyes shut, he never seemed like someone to be afraid of anything.

"I can stop John Watson, too. Stop his heart." My belly flopped, fluttering into my chest. Did you know that humans were the only creatures on Earth that ignored their instincts?

"Sherlock-" I muttered, pressing my face into his back. Wishing that I could see Richard before I died.

"Who are you?" Sherlock demanded, his cool voice hiding the venom underneath. He may have acted aloof like he didn't need anyone, but he was very fond of the ex-serviceman. John was stiff, moving automatically like he were a machine or something.

_Oh God_. I thought, clawing slightly at the back of my head. What if he _was_ a machine?

There was a banging, like a door being flung open and then allowed to slam shut. I couldn't see who it was though, Sherlock was standing directly in front of me.

"I gave you my number…I thought you might call." My head bobbed on my shoulders, I knew that voice. despite it's distorted goofiness. I glanced around the detective, watching as someone emerged from the murky darkness. My mouth fell open, gaping at the person who was both as familiar as my hand but as much of a stranger as someone else's hand to me. It was Richard, I was sure of it. Same face and everything. Except he was sharply dressed in a pitch black smooth suit. His shoes glimmered, polished so nicely you could see the pool wading against them. It was a huge difference to the casually dressed man that I knew.

"Is that a British Army Browning L9A1 in your pocket," Richard mused, an impish grin on his face "Or are you just happy to see me?" Sherlock pulled the gun without hesitation.

"Both." The consultant detective prompted, aiming down his sights. Hesitantly I moved to stop him, but dropped my hand by my sides. He wouldn't shoot Richard would he? And I wouldn't let him, would I?

_Yes, yes, yes, say yes and let the bodies hit the floor! –Q_

_And you could join me in death. To give back that which is stolen._ –Rachel.

_Nothing's stolen. -Adele_

_How do you know? -Rachel_

_I don't. -Adele_

* * *

"Jim Moriarty…Hi!" Richard, or Jim strolled casually over. His voice mocking like he were talking through a puppet, playing ventriloquist. "Jim? Jim from the hospital?" His friendly eyes were dark, not like the ones I'd seen earlier in the day. "Oh, did I really make such a fleeting impression?"

"But then I suppose that was rather the point." I stepped out from behind Sherlock who would have been contented in my staying out of sight. Richard/Jim seemed to be surprised at me too, but only for a fraction of a millisecond. Slowly he glanced past me, eyes focused on Sherlock once more.

"Who are you!?" I snapped angrily wanting to know what happened to the Richard I knew. "I asked who you were!" I spat again, forcibly putting myself between Sherlock and Jim.

"Idiot. I can blow right through your skull." Sherlock muttered under his breath.

"Don't be silly. Someone else is holding the rifle. I don't like getting my hands dirty." Jim shrugged his fists into his pocket, limbs casually swaying to the fucked up scene unfolding around us.

I stared at John, who stared back, awkwardly. The red dot reminding us that at any moment he could be blasted into the other world. Turning I grabbed the gun, biting down on Sherlock's hand until he let go, shrieking in pain.

_Pow! Pow! Pow! Ashes to ashes and we all fall down! –Q_

Honestly I had no idea what I was doing, I'd never shot a gun before, let alone held one. I did a semi-educated guess, fired a round, and whatever happened after that I wasn't sure because I felt like I had been thrown off of my feet. My shoulder hurt immensely as I sprawled to the ground. I smelled something metallic, like copper or iron. My hair plastered to my neck and face in something sticky. My limbs jerked as I fumbled around trying to regain some sense of composure.

On the floor my vision blurred. Above me was John, I think he was talking, or maybe mouthing if I were okay.

"I can't hear you." I gurgled, rolling onto my side, into Sherlock's legs before falling into a quiet blackness.

* * *

"That was a bloody good shot you know…right between the eyes."

"The bullet went clean through, she should be fine…"

"What we're you trying to pull? You could have gotten killed."

So many faces, so many voices, and I was pulled in and out of consciousness as much as they came and went. Doctors, John, Sherlock, and police all fluttered through my dreams. I wondered if I would ever wake up. Which of course I would, and eventually did. I was brought back to reality to an empty and quiet room, or at first it had seemed like it. In one of the chairs, Richard/Jim was perched, dark and malevolent eyes running over me.

"Don't bother moving, you're paralyzed." He tapped a syringe in his hand. "It wears off quickly so I'll make this brief." True to his word my limbs were completely numb, like they weren't even mine. Jim crossed the room, sitting on the bedside gently.

"You killed one of the assassins." He cooed, brushing hair out of my face. His hands were warm but felt cold to me.

"And for that I applaud you. It was a wickedly good shot you know." Jim smiled cruelly at the thought of the dead man that had taken the bullet in the head.

"I promised I would get you a crown, and I'll do just that." Inwardly my body shuddered at his coldness, his inability to have any care for the human life. His hand stroked over mine, slipping a cold ring over my middle finger. I could feel my body coming to and as I regained feeling in my hand, I clasped his fingers weakly.

"Where's Richard?" I managed to choke, looking at the dark eyes mystery. "Richard?" Jim chuckled. "He never existed, and if you tell anyone about it, I'll kill you." I squeezed my eyes to blink, it felt like someone had stuck glue in them.

"Goodbye damsel. I'll be back, we'll have a lot of fun together too. This I promise you."

Alone again, I had no strength or courage to sleep. Instead I tried to collect the small pieces that made sense in my life. Maybe I should go back to America? Then I remembered Jim's promise. He would be back, no matter where I went.

* * *

**Again thank you sooooo much for reading/fav/following/reviewing! I'm putting this out a day early because there's supposed to be a tropical storm/hurricane that may or may not put the power out. I super hoped you enjoyed this story! Also for those that don't know or who may have forgotten, I cannot see RED on the computer, I do the best I can but occasionally I miss a few here and there. Please excuse this! Thankssss!**


	9. Chapter 9: Not So Bad Aftermath

**Okay, so I do not know ALL of John's previous girlfriend's names, and just made one up. Also, I felt extremely awkward writing a portion of the story because it just felt really personal to me. I hope it's not too out of character concerning Sherlock, I'm kinda nervous about that lol. But I did my best so we'll see. Thank you soooo much to the following for fav/following, I'm so glad you all like it an are enjoying it! Makes me smile every time!:**

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**(If I am missing someone I am sorry! I use my email to list off everyone that has fav/follow/reviewed and I notice not everyone shows up)**

* * *

**Not So Bad Aftermath**

I folded my arms in my lap, happy that I wouldn't be wheeled around anymore after this. It wasn't as if I'd gotten shot in my legs. Just my shoulder, which did not affect my walking in any way. Outside Sherlock greeted me, hands intertwined behind his back, long black coat swaying in the cold wind. Which kind of surprised me because I hadn't seen him once since being shot.

"Good morning." Sherlock said looking awkward.

"Morning." I replied, standing slowly as the nurses scurried away, thankfully off to pester somebody else.

"You look well." Which he did. Then again, he always did. I never saw a hair out of place with him.

"So do you…for someone who got shot." I cracked a small smile "Nice to see you too." I understood that his crude remarks were not to intentionally hurt people, he just couldn't help but state what he saw. A lot like how I couldn't help but hear the voices in my head.

"I'm starving." I grumbled, rubbing my stomach that didn't like hospital food much. Especially not the powdered 'eggs'. Yucky.

"I know of a great fish and chips place." Sherlock extended his arm, carefully maneuvering around my injured shoulder as our arms linked together.

"That sounds awesome."

"I know, that's why I suggested it." I resisted the urge to sigh, it was Sherlock after all.

When we got to the little eatery we were seated as a 'couple'. The waitress had strode away before I could object.

"Does it bother you so much?" The detective asked, over his tea.

"What?" I glanced at him, it's been a long time since I had had soda. I missed the fuzzy bubbles in my mouth.

"That they seated us as a couple?" I blinked at Sherlock, unsure. "Well, no. It's just that, you know. We're not."

"But does it bother you?" The detective pressed, sharp eyes staring down at me. I wasn't sure what he meant and could not further ask him to elaborate since the waitress had brought out our food. As soon as the basket of food hit the table I was shoving fries into my mouth. God, I was so hungry. The woman retracted, looking somewhat disgusted.

"You apparently have never had hospital food." I grumbled, fries still in my mouth. 'Carla' moved away, probably muttering about all the weirdies she had to deal with on a regular basis and that tips alone were not enough compensation for the dastardly events. Either way, I didn't care. I was just happy to have some real food in my belly.

* * *

**_Sherlock_**

He wasn't sure when his infatuation had begun with the girl with odd eyes. Only that it had come as swiftly as a storm, becoming more prominent when Adele was laying in her own blood, when the eye of the storm was over them. He'd visited her in the private hours of visitation, when it usually wasn't allowed and when she was most likely to be asleep. In her murky slumber he told her how dumb she'd been to pull a move like that. In an instance Jim could have killed them all, but something had prevented the criminal from dealing a deadly hand.

"So…you deal with that kind of stuff often?" Adele asked slowly, more out of force than wanting to actually slow down her eating.

"Actually, no. Dead people, yes. Murder, yes. Jim Moriarty? No. He's a very different breed of people." Adele cocked her head, then deadpanned.

"You were going to shoot him."

"Of course. He had a bomb strapped to John, do you think he wouldn't have killed us?" She shrugged, unsure of herself. Sherlock wondered what was on her mind, clearly something was bothering her.

"It's just…what if he's actually a really great guy?" She said, hope lingering on the tip of her tongue. Swirling emotions clashed underneath her blue pools, sloshing messily from anger, sadness, confusion, distrust, to uncertainty. Surely in the mind of a schizophrenic it was not boring, but Sherlock wondered how often she was frightened. Sherlock was an expert at mimicking emotions, playing them off so realistically that many people did not question the authenticity. But he did not want to apply that tactic here. His simple question was, how to proceed the way a normal person would?

"Adele…"

* * *

**_Adele Banks_**

I blushed, Sherlock hovered his hand over mine, placing his cool fingers on top, allowing them to rest gingerly.

"Jim Moriarty uses people like they're games, pawns that have an expiration date. Don't assume that he'd do anything else. He's a megalomaniac with severe psychotic tendencies." I nodded, resisting the urge to frown. Jim and Richard couldn't possibly be the same person, could they? But they could and they were I thought regretfully. The proof had all been there.

"Where did you get that?" Sherlock twisted my hand in his, looking at the ring on my middle finger. The diamonds glimmered as he turned it around.

"Oh, it was a gift." I said awkwardly to his unmoved look. "From Richard?" He asked, causing me to sit in dumbfounded silence. I didn't know he knew Richard's name.

"Yes." Being frank was better than offering up a bunch of excuses, something Rachel had taught me.

"Does he know you killed someone?" Sherlock really could be insensitive, I didn't like hearing about the life I had ended.

"Yes."

"And?"

"He…I don't know. We, didn't speak much." Not exactly the truth but not a whole lie either. If I could manage deceiving Sherlock once, I could do it again, maybe.

"I see. But he gave you a ring?" Crystal blue eyes never relented.

_Stop prying! Why are you prying!? Can't you see what it does to us!? –Roach_

I pushed the voices away, swallowing hard, scratching my neck three times before answering.

"He gave it to me before I said anything. He sort of just left after that."

_Right after he drugged and black-mailed me_. I thought. Whatever the consultant had been thinking, he let it drop, squeezing my hand once more.

"Would you do it again?"

"What?"

"Kill someone."

I needed no speculation, for those I loved I'd burn a whole town down.

"Yes." Sherlock cocked his head, dark curls lopping to the side of his head as he did. "Why?"

"Because before you, and John..a-and Richard. I had no one. I'd kill anyone who'd hurt you." And I meant it, from the bottom of my heart and many times over.

There was just one thing, how do you put an end to the one you care about when they were hell bent on killing off everyone else? I decided I didn't want to think about it anymore. I just wanted to think about other things. Like ducks, or peanuts.

* * *

Later on that evening Sherlock and I walked back home. John was staying at his 'new girlfriend's' house as Sherlock put it.

"You don't like him having girlfriends?" I peeked at him. Sherlock only 'humpfhed' and went about tapping on his laptop, acting oblivious to him hearing me. So I pressed on, I didn't like being over-looked.

"How come you don't have girlfriends? You're very good looking." _Whoops._ Sherlock straightened in his seat, back erect in thought. Slowly he turned to consider my words as he stared. Blue eyes glazed as they took my uneven ones in. I wish I were as perfect and flawless as he.

After a long while he finally answered. "Because I'm very dedicated to my work."

"Are you gay?" I put my hands up defensively, "Not that it matters I just…"

"But doesn't it?" Sherlock asked abruptly, his attention fully on me, making me want to be a really small, perhaps microscopic peanut. I needed to learn to not pry too much. Prying got me into trouble, grave trouble.

"It's why you're asking. Because you want to know if I'd be interested in you." As always his words were more of a statement than a question. A point that always had annoyed me, coming from anyone actually.

I sputtered, he certainly wasn't afraid of blunt confrontation.

"Huh? No! I was just trying to, you know, have casual conversation." Heat rose to my face, so I looked away too embarrassed to take him on.

"I'm with Richard, remember?"

"No you're not." Sherlock replied in this knowing monotone voice. I got angry, how the hell would he know? So what if he was the world's only consultant detective, he couldn't possibly see everything!

"It was a present for you to 'get well'. The shock of you killing someone drove him away. You most likely will never see him again." He motioned nonchalantly to the little band around my finger.

I opened my mouth, to yell, to be angry, and maybe Sherlock was expecting that. Lately, I couldn't seem to grasp my emotions as well as I had been. Grabbing the gun had been completely irrational and entirely impulsive. Not bravery or a sense of righteousness. But I realized something, if he was going to make an excuse for me, why argue?

"Yeah, I guess you're right." I muttered slowly, staring at my lap.

"But no, I'm not gay." Sherlock continued, sliding onto the floor in front of me as graceful as a cat. Purple looked really nice on him. He leaned over, letting his hand grasp the ends of my dark hair, giving a gentle tug that pulled me forward.

"Richard wasn't really your type anyway."

_One tomato, two tomatoes, three tomatoes, four? How many more tomatoes can be put on that piggy face of yours? –Roach_

"Then what is my type detective?" I asked stupidly. I was not clever, and it was probably the embarrassment making me speak in such a way, but it flowed with the moment and I let it. Again, _stupidly_.

"I can show you." Sherlock murmured leaning forward, I could feel his breath on my lips. The soft pinkness of them nearly caressing my own, only a fraction of many fractions separating them from the want that urged the moment to happen.

"Then show me." I whispered in a soft desperate voice. And maybe it was desperation. I'd never known a feeling like this, was it lust? Not even with Richard I had felt this way. So close, desperation drove us, heads pushed together, body heat fueled by pounding hearts. For this moment to happen would be an inner emotional cosmic explosion of violent splendid wonder.

"Evening! Celia broke up with me so I just decided to –." Sherlock let his hand drop, instinctively we moved away, looking in opposite directions as a flood of awkwardness coursed between us. Cosmic birth ruined and doused by the doctor's anti-matter. But maybe it was best? I had only recently found out about Richard being Jim. John wasn't as observant as Sherlock-as none of us were, but he definitely could catch on to 'funny' things 'happening.'

"Oh, was I-?"

"No." Sherlock bit out batting down his agitation while dusting himself off. "Adele's bandages need changing. Would you see to it? Her arms are still stiff."

The rest of the night I didn't see Sherlock who trailed off to his room. With mixed emotions I made my way down to my apartment and saw a small note from Mrs. Hudson. My mother apparently had been harassing the phone line, demanding why I hadn't been 'paging her'.

"Note to self: Call mom…." I dread those agonizing five minutes. Anything could happen, anything. But electronics were the least of my problems, I just couldn't get Sherlock out of my head, though I really wanted to, I needed the undisturbed sleep. And the meds weren't kicking in fast enough. Instead I laid in bed, listening to the soft strum of his violin. Imagining that I were there in person, just listening.

* * *

**Thanks again for reading! I'm really enjoying writing this story. The weather man totally lied about the storm, which decided to take a detour. Which I suppose isn't a bad thing lol. Any who I am going to put this one out as well because I'm soooo happy that A)the story is going well. And B) I'm not living in the dark ages! *WHOOP WHOOP***


	10. Chapter 10: Irene Adler and Jealousy

**Chapter 10 is out! Irene Adler is now making her Grand entrance! Which means things are going to get more interesting concerning OC! Make sure you're playing close attention from here on out, I'll try to make it easy to understand but other than having some leverage against Sherlock, Jim does have his own seperate reasons to being drawn to Adele. And remember bold is flashbacks okay? Thanks sooooo much to those who have fav'd/follow both my story and myself. It really is nice to know people like to read what I write:**

**The Miffe Writer**

**tatiyanaross**

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**Marie Chandler**

**PsychoBeachGirl88**

**CayCay1996**

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**NightWindAlcchemist**

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**(SOOOOO MANY PEHPOLES! MAKES MEH HAPPEE!)**

**And to Deductions-of-Sherlolly and PsychoBeachGirl88: Thank you so much for your reviews! Lets me know the story is pleasing and keeps me writing. Im very glad you are enjoying it thus far!**

* * *

**Ir****ene Adler and Jealousy**

Payphones: germy, disgusting, nasty, spying, and awful technology. I had a hundred more insults to give the stupid thing, standing there in the middle of the side walk all confidently, knowing it owned that little strip of sidewalk, but I had to call mom and fast. Punching the numbers shakily I felt like I was being closed and swallowed up, like a package being filled with packing peanuts and taped up to be shut away in the dark depths of a plane's cargo. I had actually waited two weeks after being discharged from the hospital to call. I needed to do this, it was now or never. And I couldn't afford never.

Riiiinggg. _I know you're there so pick up._

Riiiiiiiiingggg. _C'mon, I'll hang up and you'll just keep thinking I'm dead._

Riiiinnnnnnnggg. _I'll just leave a message then…_

"Hello?" Mom's voice rang through the other end, like she had been rushing around in a hurry.

"It's me." I said quickly, shifting uncomfortably, 'Q' was clawing at my brains, scratching at all the bugs I was letting in through my ears. I told him to stop or I would die, to which he responded 'good!'.

"Adele? Jesus! Why haven't you been paging!? We thought something horrible had happened! Frank! Frank! Get over here, it's Adele!" I closed my eyes, sighing. She knew how much I hated phones, why would she try to get the entire house to come on over and have a 'nice chat'.

"You're land lady said you were in the hospital! Did you have an episode? Do you need us to come get you? Are you feeling okay?" Millions of millions of questions.

_Major mom is gonna get you, and she'll lock you away in your dark room. –Q_

_I don't like her. –Rachel_

_She was never there. –Rachel_

_Be quiet, she's always there. -Adele_

_Because she has to be. –Q_

* * *

"Okay first off, be quiet and let me explain. I was just busy with work, which I got fired from so I was doing a lot of job hunting. I was in the hospital because…I ate something bad." I really hoped they didn't already know the details. If even a hint of me lying was given off they'd be here to take me away in a heartbeat.

"You were fired? Why? Do you need us to wire you money?" Dad said, talking over mom.

"Because I wasn't good at my job." Lies and more lies, digging my hole so much deeper. "And no, I don't need you to wire me money. I'm fine." I hung up quickly, wrapping my scarf tightly around my neck so that nobody could see me rubbing it back and forth against my scalp and neck.

"Miss Banks?" I glanced around my shoulder, coming face to face with two rather big men in suits.

"Uh, yes?" _Oh god, the government's onto me! _I side glanced to escape.

"We're going to need you to come with us." Yeah, there was no way that was going to happen. With a horrible and futile attempt I dodged to the side, to which the burly man flicked his arm out, catching me effortlessly.

"Ma'am do not make this harder than it has to be." I kicked my legs which had been tightly secured in the second man's vice grip. It made me look like a retarded mermaid. Arms flying around I started screaming, damn right I was going to make a scene. A very nice scene.

* * *

**John**

The Buckingham Palace, grand in every aspect. Except for a naked guy wrapped in his sheets sitting on one of the extravagant sofas. And if that couldn't be strange enough, Adele had been carted in by two men. One hoisting her up by her waist, arms pasted to her sides. The other, holding her legs. Adele's mouth had been taped shut. Here eyes swiveled madly in her skull, poor thing was a panicked mess.

The guards placed her gently on the adjacent sofa, pulling the tape roughly from her mouth as if saying: you-deserved-it-for-being-such-a-brat. Then promptly left without uttering a word.

Adele rolled off the sofa, landing hard on the floor with a loud 'thump,' steadying herself on the coffee table, her eyes slanted as she stared angrily around the room. When he found out she was schizophrenic, he felt sorry for her.

Sherlock explained what it might be like in her mind, her emotions, her thoughts. He wondered if she lived in constant fear of herself. Yet John had to admit he didn't catch onto her act at all. She'd done very well. Well enough to fool Sherlock, who didn't admit it up front, but had been curiously edgy after leaving the lab.

"You wearing any pants?" John looked to the stoic Holmes, who uttered a quick 'No', his face caught between annoyance and disgust.

"Okay." John bobbed his head, that wasn't unusual at all in the great halls of the Buckingham Palace. The two snickered, John personally wanting to steal an ashtray, heck he'd be happy with one of the throw pillows.

* * *

**Adele**

Their easy laughter annoyed me, seriously? I was practically kidnapped…by the freaking British government! This was no laughing matter! I remained on the floor, the sparse bodied coffee table offering me little protection from the elements.

"The Buckingham Palace!" John mused in delight, "I am seriously fighting an impulse to steal an ashtray…ahem, what are we doing here Sherlock Holmes? Seriously, what?"

"I don't know." Sherlock replied, his face faltering slightly from his laughter.

_Sheesh! Now they ask!_ I thought, head bobbing unsteadily on my shoulders. Whatever the reason I wanted out, I didn't care about meeting the queen or anybody else. I just wanted to go home and crawl in bed and remain hidden. A man in a dark suit, with thin stripes walked in, his yellow tie contrasting against his serious face.

"Oh, apparently yes." Sherlock snorted, causing another fit of laughter. The man lifted his chin, perhaps suppressing a sigh, glaring down his hooked nose. Instead he plastered a fake smile on his face, resisting the urge to slap the giggling school girls into another dimension.

"Just once can you two behave like grown ups?" The man bit out in an elegant but commanding British voice. John shrugged nonchalantly,

"He solves crimes, I blog about it, and he forgets his pants. So I wouldn't hold out too much hope." The unnamed man pressed his lips prudishly, casting Sherlock an angry look. He reminded me of nun, always scowling, looking upset, while somehow retaining some grace from Marry Poppins. Tie-guy glanced down at me, tilting his head.

"Miss Banks, how nice of you to join us." I glared, eyes narrowing into pencil thin lines.

"I was kidnapped, I didn't come willingly." Again a fake smile plastered on his face.

"Right you are, the damages to the vehicle say it all. Also, the driver's broken nose speaks for itself." I flashed a pretty grin, full of malice and respite. They deserved it. Kidnapping someone off the street in broad daylight. Unheard of!

"Perhaps a simple pop in, no?" I snapped, shakily rising to my feet and teetered over to the window.

"You're arguing with a schizophrenic Mycroft, it's utterly useless." I threw my hand up, rounding on Sherlock.

"Well, just blab to the whole neighborhood why don't you!?" Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"It's Mycroft, he probably knew everything about you before you even got into England. Bet you 100 quid he has a file on you." I opened my mouth, turning to 'Mycroft' who gave me an indifferent shrug.

* * *

"I was in the middle of a case, Mycroft." Sherlock snarled, if there was anything I learned in the past two weeks about Sherlock, it was that he was adamantly dedicated to his cases. He did not tolerate interruption. Good thing I don't tolerate being ignored. Mycroft apparently ran off the same policy I did.

"What, the hiker and the backfire? I glanced at the police report. A bit obvious, surely."

"Transparent."

"Time to move on then." Mycroft cleared his throat, turning with the neat pile of clothes in his hand. I just realized Sherlock was naked. I turned awkwardly away, deciding it's better to listen than to observe. I stared out the window, head swimming. Mycroft sighed like a mother clucking to get her children dressed who simply refused to.

"We are in Buckingham Palace-" Obviously, I thought. What else would be this damn fancy? Along with John stating so like five times.

"The very heart of the British nation. Sherlock Holmes, put your trousers on." Mycroft's voice leaked venom while I wondered who still said 'trousers'.

"What for?" Sherlock huffed, rolling his eyes.

"Your client." Sheet clad the brunette detective stood, he did realize sheets became somewhat transparent near windows during the day, right?

I plugged my ears, chanting some verse from a children's nursery rhyme. From the mental blundering I could hear the heated argument which was entirely one sided –courtesy Sherlock.

One thing led to another, I saw Holmes and Watson getting ready to leave and hurried after them- I mean, I wasn't staying here by myself, they would dissect me and plant robot babies in me to do I-don't-know-what. While getting a full view of Sherlock pretty much naked.

* * *

"Get off my sheet!" Sherlock growled, hands pressing his hips to squeeze the sheet tighter against his backside and legs. I wanted to cover my eyes. Key words, wanted to. Doesn't mean I did.

"Or What?" Mycroft snapped, his cool and indifferent demeanor rapidly boiling away.

"Or I'll just walk away."

"I'll let you." Mycroft taunted, it was amusing to see the brothers bicker like they were in grade school. Ha, John was playing mommy now.

_Boys, please. Not here. –Q _His voice pitched and mocking. If he had hands I imagined him moving them around like mouths, jutting his own lips to act out the scene.

_What a fine and fetching mommy! –Roach_

"-Make a deduction. You are to be engaged by the highest in the land. Now for God's sake, put your clothes on!"

* * *

I quietly walked alongside nobody, trailing behind Sherlock who was still upset at being thoroughly controlled. Not that I blamed him. He was supposed to be pursuing a woman, called Irene Adler, a Dominatrix. A legal prostitute of some sort that smacked you around like she were your pimp?

I wasn't too sure. I was seeing far too many people naked today, her site had been pretty…forward. Not that it mattered to me what people did in their own time. But the woman had a flipping website! She was flawless, angular face with stunning blue eyes. Along with her great beauty she also had a ruthless cunning. Her lipstick a voracious red, giving her the look of a woman who knew how to be a ball grabber…figuratively and literally.

Since leaving the palace Sherlock looked somewhat embarrassed, and refused to acknowledge my presence. He offered no apologizes when he squashed me in the car between he and John, or when he was getting 'dressed for battle' while tossing articles of clothes in my arms, face, over my head and around me. My helping was simply to gather everything up and put them away.

Something Mycroft had said earlier, combining with me being in the room had put him in a bad mood that was all directed at me.

"**Don't be alarmed. It has to do with sex."**

"**Sex doesn't alarm me." Sherlock prompted, to which Mycroft scoffed, lips curling into a sneer as he proceeded to make a jab at Sherlock's pride.**

"**How would you know?" And in the mili-second whether anyone noticed or not, Sherlock's eyes fluttered over at me, his face annoyed at my presence, standing in front of him.**

It was definitely an under-the-belt blow. Like grating someone's ego with coarse sand paper. I guess I understood why he'd be embarrassed. But I wasn't, I could blunder around all through town telling people I'd never had sex. Of course I wouldn't do that in the shady areas…

When I came out of my thoughts the guys were rolling around the ground, fighting. Ridiculous. Why did I come along?

_Because Sherlock made you. –_Rachel

_Obviously_. –Adele

I still didn't understand why I had been pulled into the situation at all. I didn't do any detective work.

* * *

"You were a doctor!"

"I had my bad days!" John howled, I pushed a 'kretek' in my mouth, inhaling rigorously. Hopefully nobody saw this.

_Why afraid someone will accuse you of something? -_Rachel

_Shut up. Don't you have a corner to cry in?_ –Adele, my skull burned, brain sloshing as the corners of the streets curled with the shadows. They needed to sort this bitch fit out before the earth swallowed us.

* * *

Irene Adler was a very interesting woman. Strutting in with her birthday suit on to greet her guests. Or as she called it-her battle armor. Funny, think I've heard that somewhere.

"I had tea too, from the palace." John said, eyes not looking away. "In case anyone's interested." They weren't. Sherlock was intently staring at Irene, who was intently staring back, and I was intently staring at Sherlock. Wonder what deductions he was making. I wasn't a deduction-maker. But Irene was the only 'smoking hot' person in the room. Which was cool with me, I just don't know why she had to be naked. At least she wasn't looking at me.

When the detective seemed to not be able to say anything, Irene turned to me, lips charmingly pulling over her teeth.

"And you must be Adele." Spoke to freaking soon.

"You know me?"

She didn't answer only continued to smile, slowly standing as she strode over. I turned my body away, I might have been dressed but I felt bare and vulnerable near her.

"Your eyes truly are remarkable…I can see why they would be a point of interest. I have something of particular for you. It seemed appropriate to call you in with the boys." So she had requested me to be here.

"And….that would be?"

"Some clothes. Kate! Take Miss Banks here, and dress her in the finest. You know which one."

John pushed his lips, staring holes into a wall.

"Could you put something on? Please? Uh, anything at all. A napkin?" I was whisked away by 'Kate', neither guy noticing me being kidnapped, again.

Stripped naked, showered, groomed, dressed, and then shoved back into the room of 'adults'. I stood awkwardly in a cloth thin cocktail dress and stilettos. Now it was everyone's turn to stare at me. This time it was me refusing to acknowledge Sherlock.

"Where are my clothes?" I demanded.

"There." Irene drawled, fingers lazily motioning to the burning pile of clothes in the fireplace. "Dark clothes don't suit you." My face was red, flaming over my cheeks. Irene twirled, hips shaking underneath Sherlock's coat. At least she was dressed this time.

"Okay, what is this? We're here for the photographs-"

"They are. You're not." Irene smiled lusciously. She tilted her chin, "A gift. From an admirer, they adored your handy work." The woman was in front of me, taking me around the room like we were dancing to a serenade, to which I followed blindly. In her final spin she shoved me with a bump of her hip, sending me into Sherlock's lap, causing him to grunt from surprise. The detective's hands caught me, steadying me as I clawed to stand while trying to not flash my whoo-ha at everyone.

"Ack!" I fumbled, too embarrassed to stand next to anyone.

"I'm…going home." I stammered, storming and then stopping short. "Can I have that coat?" Irene shrugged it off, dropping it into my hands. It smelled just like Sherlock, and Irene.

"What? No-!" John tried to stop me but I dodged around him, flying out of Irene's home as fast as I could. Heels tapping against the pavement. How did anyone wear sequin dresses? I felt like it was going to blow off my body any second. It was tight and loose at the same time, which should have been physically impossible.

* * *

It was nearly an hour walk and when I got home I was happy to see my dark, ghoulish flat. It was empty. Completely empty, void of naked people and people from the palace and empty of the detective and Irene Adler. The way I had left it, they way it should have been. Save for Jim standing in the middle of it. A bouquet of roses clasped in his fist. Could this day get anymore surreal?

"Hello darling. Did you miss me?" Jim smirked, raven eyes flashing a deadly taunt. "Or have you moved on already? Sherlock is it?" I paled but somehow found my courage.

"It's not moving on if 'you' never existed." Jim smiled, a very rich Richard-y smile.

"Touché my dear." The suited man sauntered over, knowing I wouldn't run. He knew like I knew –which I hated to know, was that I wanted to see him. Slowly he pulled the jacket off tossing it down. His eyes first trailed over the small puckered skin that had a bluish bruise. The wound was healing nicely, too bad it looked gross.

"I knew it would look stunning." His finger strummed the small gold chain between my breasts, the only thing keeping them hidden actually.

"You're my secret admirer?" Jim bowed dramatically, the red curtains closing around us, roses being thrown at his feet. "The one and only."

"Now, why don't you tell me all about you and Sherlock?" He said,a smile smearing from his face.

"What about it? You jealous 'Richard'?" I might have wanted to see him, but I hated being deceived.

"Oh, Richard isn't jealous. Not caring and loving Richard. No, my damsel…but Jim is." His arm curled ill-intently around my waist.

"How about we talk about it over dinner hm? I got something very special planned."


	11. Chapter 11: Under the Moon and Stars

**Thanks soooo much for following and favoriting and reviewing! I honestly didn't think this story would really be of much interest! So I'm really quite pleased and excited! Nothing makes me more happy than knowing that people enjoy the things I write. Also, I was finally able to view those lovely persons who have followed me as an author so totally doing fist pumps for that one :D Since the list grows longer and longer, I will now be listing everyone horizontally instead of straight down to save some space lol.**

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* * *

**Under the Moon and Stars**

We had drove a long way, all the way out into the country. Where there was not a building or even a cottage in sight. Personally, I thought that Jim would murder me out here, dumping my body for the wolves and buzzards to pick at. But when we arrived at our destination, I found something far more charming and appealing waiting.

In the hills of the untouched beauty of nature was a gazebo, open to the night sky. Center of the wooden construction was a table for two, dimly lit by candle so that majority of our light came from the universe's gift of giant stars.

"Amour." Jim smiled, cruelly gifting me with the man I had learned was not real. He led me by my waist, pulling the chair out in a 'good breeding' sort of way, before taking his own seat.

"Many of your books are about the universe. I thought this would be more suiting than a stuffy restaurant filled with snobby suit and tie folk." Jim waved his hand, motioning over a waiter who poured wine. It smelled delicious. I decided I wasn't going to ask how he knew about what books I had, figured it'd be best to not know.

"It's…" Mind blowing, extravagant, extraordinary, thoughtful…

"You don't need to say what you feel, it's all over your face." Jim mused, hand strumming the ring over my finger, as if reminding me that I was his. I wasn't of course, but that part of me wanted me to be. Why did he have to be a lunatic?

_You're a lunatic._ -Roach

"I told them I'd go home. If they knew I was here with you," Jim hushed me, never losing a beat in his kingly step.

"Irene is taking care of everything, inevitably Sherlock will notice, but he probably won't care." Still, something about Jim's face told me otherwise. He knew something I didn't and I was too much of a coward to ask. Which interested him.

"He watches you, you know?" Jim sighed like he were forlorn at the competition. Even though, here, under the stars, Jim left himself unguarded, not an ounce of care, like he trusted me with those fragile things when I could hardly keep mine in check. He was excited with the competition, moved at the prospect of it, and would be willing to leap boundaries to see what limitations could be pushed.

"Sherlock doesn't watch me." I replied finally, unsure of myself. It was more like I watched Sherlock.

"No my damsel. He watches you, as much as I watch you, craves you like I crave you. He thinks he's got your spontaneous mind all figured out when in fact he's hardly even scratched the surface." Jim motioned to the stars around us,

"Much like our very own universe there's so much that not even you know about yourself." I felt cold, and wanted to pull my hand away from his.

_Secrets, secrets, down in the deep. Push you in, come take a peek, come and see what's underneath._ -Rachel

"Can we talk about something else please?" I squeak, stabbing the food on my plate I shoved it into my mouth, chewing with far too much meaning. Jim's lips curled, pressing in his usual menacing way, it scared me how quickly he could change his façade while keeping his true self hidden. Jim should have been a wonder of the world.

"Of course my damsel. How's the mignon?"

* * *

We never drifted back to the topic that I dreaded most, the topic of myself, to which I was grateful for. Instead we talked hours on end like we did at the park, when Richard was real and things made a lot more sense.

"Don't you get tired? Tired of controlling yourself all the time?" Jim asked, dark eyes pooling over me, some people looked good under the moonlight, but Jim made the moonlight look good. Like he belonged in the darkness surrounding us, he owned it with such precision that I wondered how anyone could disobey him.

"It's the only way." I replied, knowing what he was referring to. "Because bad things happen." Jim bobbed his head, draping his Westwood jacket over me, the dress didn't offer much protection from the weather, and the back was entirely open in a wide 'V' shape.

"Things like Rachel?" He mused casually, knowing her death pained me. "Yeah." I sighed, trying to recall if I'd ever told him that. My words pleased Jim, he leaned back, whistling casually, still staring back at me.

"Why are we here?" I asked, "You don't seem like the type to take women on dates." Jim mocked hurt, pressing his hand to his heart dramatically.

"I took you on a bunch of dates."

"No, Richard took me on dates. Not Jim."

Jim laughed pulling me out of me seat nudging the table off the edges of the gazebo with his foot, sending it and the chairs clattering to the ground. Like it were a signal or something unseen people began to play their stringed instruments.

"You see Adele, I know a lot about you. You wouldn't have to worry anymore. I could control your problem for you, you wouldn't have to take your meds, or page your parents, find a job that accommodates for your needs. You'd live like a queen and all of England –no, the _world_ would be at your command."

"How could I not take my meds anymore? If you know me as much as you say then you'd realize that—"

"You wouldn't be in control, that's the beauty of it _Addy_." Jim finished, we twirled one more, going on a roundabout. "Do you honestly like not being who you are?"

My brows furrowed both from thought and also shock. It's been a long time since anyone had ever called me by my pet name,

"I am me, I'm nothing else." Jim pouted in a childish way. "Is that what they told you?"

* * *

"**Addy, take the medicine please. Remember our little song?" Mom pleaded with me, she was sitting on top of me, trying to hold me down as she struggled to get the pills into my mouth. It was surprising how strong children could actually be, gaining strength that grown men sometimes could not muster.**

"**No! No! No! No! Go away! Major mom, I don't like you!" My seven year old self screamed, flailing and kicking, eyes swiveling around next to my brain.**

"**Please Addy! This isn't like you!" Mom heaved over me, pinching my face tightly, forcing the medicine down my throat, washing it away with it water. I sputtered and gagged, trying to retch the water out. Shrieking as I shoved my finger down my throat,**

"**It's tap! Tap! You're trying to poison me!" Over and over mom told me that it wasn't, that it was bottled water, but I didn't believe her. She was always trying to change me, didn't she love me for who I was? She wished I were Rachel, I know she did. Heard her say so, or did Q tell me that? Her hands clutched my own to keep me from striking her and preventing me from hurting myself. I always had bruises and scratches from the bugs. She cried when I told her the bugs did it, that they were the ones gnawing my arms and scratching my face.**

"**Stop it! This isn't you!" Mom howled, out of her frustration slapping me across the face.**

"**I'm not Rachel! Not Rachel! Rachel, Rachel, Rachel!"**

"**Yes you are!"**

"**NO I'M NOT YOU BITCH!" My hand flew out, closing in a tight angry fist, hitting the older woman hard in the face, blood spurting to the surface from her lip and gushing down her chin.**

* * *

The memory faded, I was surprised at how much it drained me. It wasn't often that I recalled memories so strongly. Then again, that's what the meds were for, to suppress those strong uncontrollable forces of my mind.

We weren't dancing anymore. Instead I was laying on the ground, my head in Jim's lap with his coat draped over me. I felt disoriented as I slowly sat up, looking around. Jim didn't say anything, just looked sly.

"I want to go home." I breathed shakily, shivering from the cold. "Of course." Jim said helping me up and over to the car.

As we drove I remained close to the consultant criminal, afraid to be alone despite the fact he could end my life without batting his empty eyes. I was shaken from the dream, I hadn't recalled many memories, mostly because they bothered me and I wanted to pretend they never existed.

After hitting mom I remember I cried, a lot. And she told me it was okay that I didn't mean it and that we were going through a rough patch of my life. But how do you forgive a monster like me? How did you hold the little psycho lovingly in your arms and sing them to sleep and not feel disgusted?

"I do get tired of controlling it sometimes." I muttered admitting what I had felt for nearly all my life, watching the lights, letting their dirty taint jump out at me and spook my inner thoughts.

Unbeknownst to me, Jim was grinning ear to ear.

* * *

**_Sherlock Holmes_**

The woman had drugged him, all night he hallucinated horribly, not to mention that seductive moan that came from his phone. He'd remember being baffled, he couldn't recall anyone other than John being in the apartment. When he finally did come to he managed to stumble out of his room and into the living room. On the sofa was Adele, curled in a ball. She was still dressed in her light pink cocktail dress, the sequins glittering in the early morning sunrise.

"Found her there this morning. Didn't want to wake her. I figured she locked herself out of her flat." John said, when he noticed his flatmate. Mrs. Hudson was in the kitchen cooking breakfast.

"She didn't come home?" Sherlock asked slumping at the table.

"Not right away. I checked for her but she wasn't in. I figured she went to see Richard." Sherlock tensed slightly, why would she go see Richard? A nasty feeling settled in his gut, and quietly he seethed. While also not understanding this new feeling in him.

"Perhaps." Sherlock mused finally, concealing his thoughts. A tap at the door, proving to be entirely pointless when Mycroft strode in, looking annoyed.

"The photographs are perfectly safe." Sherlock said instantly, flapping he paper in front of his face to 'read'. It was about that time that Adele stirred on the sofa, glittering dress swishing around her hips as she sat at the table.

"What on Earth are you wearing?" Mycroft asked instantly. "A sad excuse for clothes that was unwillingly forced onto me." Adele grumbled instantly, looking grateful as Mrs. Hudson pushed a plate of food towards her. She offered no other explaination than that and began to eat slowly. Her eyes low slits on her face as she contemplated whatever it was going on in her brain.

"She's not interested in blackmail. She wants protection for some reason." He glanced at the elder Holmes.

"I take it you studied the police investigation into the shooting at her house?" Mycroft looked at him in disbelief, there were bigger problems in England caused by the woman, how was he supposed to find extra time to investigating shootings into a sex worker's house?

"How can we do anything while she has the photographs? Our hands are tied." Sherlock smirked slightly, turning back to his paper, eyes passing quickly over Adele, she looked upset. Instead of addressing the matter he proceeded to mock his brother.

"Can't applaud your choice of words." He nodded knowingly to Mycroft, "Do you see how this works? That camera phone is her get out of jail free card. You have to leave her alone. Treat her like _royalty_, Mycroft." Mycroft scowled, he loathed to treat Irene Adler anything like royalty. As if his little brother's smart remarks weren't enough, John Watson had to join in, causing Mycroft to sneer in an oddly polite way.

"Though not the way she treats royalty."

* * *

**_Adele Banks_**

Didn't anyone notice I'd not been present last night? They probably did I assumed, Jim had predicted the situation to me the previous night.

"Oooh." I blushed at the sensual sound coming from somewhere in the room. To which he looked indifferent about.

"What was that?" John asked, chewing his food as he did.

"Text."

A text? Like writing from the cell phones?...They could do that? I watched Sherlock fold his paper down onto the table. Wondering the same thing that John was. The detective stood, crossing the room past his elder brother, plucking the phone from the fireplace.

"What was that noise?" I asked, trying to elaborate for the rest of us left in the dark.

"You knew there were other people after her too, Mycroft." Sherlock said, ignoring my question. "Before you sent John and I in there. CIA trained killer I think, an excellent guess."

John liften his nose up, looking 'grateful'. "Yeah, thanks for that Mycroft." I blinked.

"Killers went after you guys?" And I went off dancing with a psychotic egomaniac. Though, I wasn't going to mention that. Mrs. Hudson's heels stomped against the wood flooring, making sure she piled more food onto my no-where-nearly-empty- plate. 'You're awfully thin' she told me once. But I wasn't going to complain. Real food was deliciously divine compared to canned chicken and dry rice cakes. Mrs. Hudson spoke in scolding way, giving Mycroft a pointed look.

"It's a disgrace sending your little brother into danger like that that. Family is all we have in the end, Mycroft Holmes." Mycroft huffed, he was not going to tolerate being scolded…he did the scolding.

"Oh, shut up Mrs. Hudson."

"Mycroft!" Sherlock's booming voice made me jump, and the tenseness in the room made me feel awkward. Mom always made sure the home environment was as calm as possible for my sake, so I wasn't used to aggressive conflicts.

"Apologies." Mycroft said after some time, realizing under Sherlock's heated anger he had no power.

"Thank you.." The landlady/not-your-housekeeper moved away with Sherlock calling after her.

"Though, do in fact shut up." John and I sighed, sharing the same look, why stand up for the poor woman at all?

"Ooooh." Again that…sound. looked over, disturbed saying that the 'noise' was rude.

"There's nothing you can do and nothing she will do." Mycroft bounced on his toes, and I wondered if all this fuss was really over one woman.

"I can put maximum surveillance on her." Sherlock snorted, blue green eyes falling on me for the first time that morning.

"Why bother? You can follow her on twitter. I believe her username is The Whip Hand." Mycroft sneered one last time, excusing himself as he took a phone call. At the same time Mrs. Hudson went to get the front door.

"So, you and Richard are—" John struggled with his words.

"We're fine." I said, poking the last bit of eggs on my plate. "Just had a rough patch is all..."

"Or your dress was very appealing." Sherlock bit out unkindly. "It's hard to look appealing with Irene Adler in the room, strutting around in the nude." I snapped back, feeling the vessels under my cheeks flare up.

"If I recall correctly John was the one wondering if she was interested in 'policemen'. " Sherlock replied, offering nothing to reject the idea that Irene had been attractive nor saying that I had been appealing at all –which I hadn't really expected him to do anyway, but still.

And John remained silent, lips pressing tightly. Most likely to avoid getting involved in the oncoming heated argument. I'm sure he meant no offense, and probably wasn't even aware that he had offended me. But having a sister like Cassie often left it's mark when it came to my looks. It was hard always being average. I had a kiddish look compared to Irene. Thin but not slender as she was. I couldn't be a supermodel because I wasn't graceful or charming. Were those the kind of women Sherlock did like? Did it matter?

* * *

"Adele dear, it's for you." Mrs. Hudson came into the room, whatever was going to be said was left unsaid and she handed me a package that weighed my hands down slightly.

"Who's it from?" John asked, looking at the box curiously.

"Richard." Sherlock quipped, frown hiding behind his paper.

As I opened the box I nearly dropped it, resisting the urge to scrub my hands. John plucked the black device from the cardboard box. It was rather big, fitting snugly in both of his hands. He pushed the rectangular screen back, revealing a little keyboard.

"Oh I see." John said, turning the phone in his hand. "It's one of those text only phones. They can do everything an actual phone can except for making phone calls." I grasped the device in my hand, unsure. I guess it was better than worrying about things getting in me via phone transmissions.

With hesitation I pushed the button, the screen coming to life and a raspberry noise blowing from the speaker, sounding like a squeaky fart. I tapped the screen, a humored look on my face.

**G_ood morning my Damsel, going out of town. Try not to miss me too much. - J.M_**

I bit my lip, to text or not to text? Sherlock's face was priceless. To text it was. Slowly I punched the keys with my fingers, freshly polished nails hovering over the letters in calculated slowness.

**_What a shame. No spontaneous kidnaps? Missing it sooooo much. – A.B_**

I actually felt pretty good. No mounting anxiety or fear. Why hadn't I thought of it before?

"Thanks Mrs. Hudson for the breakfast." I called, picking up my things. "See you guys later." I practically danced out of the flat, passing Mycroft on the way down. A sharp raspberry nose blaring from my new doo-hicky. The elder Holmes passed me a strange look before disappearing into my familiar and much missed flat. Tossing the box off onto the floor I looked at the message.

_**Don't worry, once I return we'll be back to our old routine. Merry Christmas – J.M**_

I pushed the button on the pager, carefully lining my pills in place. I had forgotten it was so close to Christmas now. I wondered if I should get anyone anything. It's not like I knew what they liked, with a shrug I downed the capsules one by one, singing softly to myself.

"Prolixin, to keep the creepies away."

"Lexapro so I don't get the frownies."

"Lithium so I don't fall off my rocker."

"And Depakote! So I don't do the silly willies."

With a heavy yawn I padded down the hall, slouching in the wooden stool, and began to paint. Welcoming the fading feeling that generally came with drug administration. Slowly I drifted off into darkness, erasing all the events of Irene and Sherlock and Jim. It was just me in my head, for now.

* * *

**I realize part of the original plot was Irene returning Sherlock's coat. We can use our imagination and say she just hacked his phone while popping in on him, or that she fetched the coat from Adele's flat. Either way, it doesn't matter much because I won't be mentioning it. I do try to stick to the plot as much as possible, but sometimes I'll make altercations to fit into my story. Also, I am thinking about udpdating twice a week instead of just Thursdays. Probably Monday, but I just want to make sure it won't be too much since I have been working on some other things.**


	12. Chapter 12: The Bane of John Watson

**Thanks a bazillion-million for all of your support! It makes me all warm and fuzzy like Chewbacca! (I had to learn how to spell Chewbacca, Google got P.O'd and was like: searching for **_**Chewbacca.**_** As if implying my idiocy. And I was like: Oh, **_**excuse me **_**Google.)**

**Anywho, to the following favs/follows****: WhisperedxNothingsx, YUNeLenna, lelacool, dallas1990, Ghouly-Girl, Sammie-sue1225, BrendaBanner1234, HeriftheSea01, kittykat9628, and beatrizcatharina! You guys are a-mazing!**

**And to my reviewers: Deductions-of-Sherlolly, Diamondtearsx, and Sammiesue1225****! I am really thrilled to have your input and love :D, I'll honestly say I was iffy about my OC because of her condition, I wasn't sure if people would be like 'oh another useless woman in distress', which isn't what I wanted at all for Adele. It makes me so happy that you guys love it and it's uniqueness. **

**I've always been a sucker for the baddies in a lot of movies/books I read and watch. But who can't love Sherlock as well? Because he's not really good -good is he? So I am at a stand still on what pairing it should be. Originally, in my plot it was just supposed to be a Sherlock/oc story, but I mean Jim is just so freaking awesome…from a safe distance lol. Maybe I'll branch the story out into 2 different stories based on who, that way everyone gets what they want, including myself!**

_**MOST IMPORTANTLY: This chapter is mainly in Sherlock's POV. This is a less dramatic story, kinda a filler to be honest. But there is some drama/importance towards the end :D**_

* * *

**The Bane of John Watson**

She hadn't been to 221B in nearly a week, her tinkling laugh occasionally resonating up the stairs following the audacious farting noise that came from her phone. Sherlock attempted not once but twice to carry himself down to her flat, to strike a conversation, but the few times they had spoken he and Adele got into a row. They argued over petty and unimportant things. Mostly involving The Woman, Irene Adler. It agitated him that of all people Adele could bring Sherlock down to a level of normalcy, since when did he care about mundane things like women, jealousy, and dinner?

"Just go talk to her." John groaned from his chair, flipping through the paper aggressively. Sherlock had been annoying him greatly, shooting bullets at any given moment.

"I'm simply bored John." Sherlock lied for the hundredth time. Drilling John's 'annoyance hole' even deeper.

"Okay you know what?" John snapped, tossing the flimsy paper down onto the end table and snatched the gun from the detective's hands. He swore the two were back at square one. Saying curt hellos and having simple chit chat conversations that revolved around things that neither party cared about.

"You're not in high school. Just take her to dinner like you were planning." Sherlock scrunched his face up. "I was never—" John threw the taller man a pointed look.

"You left a post-it note in my laptop. Italian is better." With a gruff shove Sherlock was forced out the door, black coat being thrown into his face. He noted the locking of the door and chain, trudging down the stairs. As always her front door was ajar, inviting any random person in at any given moment. Sherlock took this as an invitation, strutting in, not surprised to find Adele munching on crackers while reading out of an encyclopedia of the universe.

"Afternoon." She greeted, not looking up.

"It's after five, technically evening." Sherlock corrected.

"Cool." Her lids were heavy, lip pursed into a thin line as she turned the page with calculated precision. "I'm on my meds so….yeah." Adele nodded to the other chair, "But you're welcome to sit if you like." She was much more docile when on her pills. Sherlock wrung the tension out of his shoulders, sitting down carefully.

"I wanted to let you know that we're –Mrs. Hudson, is having a Christmas party. You're invited." It wasn't the best conversation starter, but it was somewhere. Sherlock figured that it was decent enough, besides she wasn't in any condition to be out and about.

"I know." She yawned, rubbing her eyes.

"You know?"

"Well…yeah, I live less than down the hall from her. She's not so old that she can't tell me herself you know." Sherlock clucked his tongue into his cheek. Darned Mrs. Hudson. Why hadn't he thought of that before? The air dropped into silence, with Sherlock carefully observing Adele and Adele bobbling her head to stay awake. He'd honestly never seen Adele in her drug induced stupor and he thought how he didn't like it. She wasn't like her happy go-lucky self. Just an outer-shell of a person that slumped against the chair for support so that she wouldn't topple over.

"One of these days, you'll really hate me." Adele said suddenly, dropping the book onto the ground, her chin tilted back so that her head leaned against the beige cushion.

"Why?" Sherlock asked curiously, leaning forward because her voice was barely above a whisper.

"Because I have unforgivable secrets." Adele smiled slightly nodding towards him, abruptly changing the subject. "You haven't played in a while." Sherlock twisted his mouth, raising his brows.

"Played-?"

"Your violin." Adele laughed a little enjoying the detective's surprised look. He played regularly but he never thought anyone but he was enjoying his music.

"You listen?"

"Every night that you play. I can't listen to the radio so it's very nice that I can listen to you. Since you play in the living room, I stay here until you're done." It touched the detective in a strange way. To know that he played a huge role in Adele's day. But it would also explain why she walked with a meaningful gait, carefully goading her limbs into step, accidentally falling sleep on a small chair all night. It had to be taxing on her body, despite how small she was. Adele yawned loudly, her eyes drooping shut and then snapped groggily open. The detective figured he ought to be quick.

"Tomorrow, I was wondering…if you would join me…to dinner."

"Like a date?"

"Uh…well, yes?" Sherlock mentally cursed himself, he was fluent in playing the romantic man, but maybe that was why, he wasn't trying to play anything. Adele giggled a little, mismatched colored hues of blue smiling at him. Her anisocoria reminding him of the Cheshire Cat.

"Sure. That sounds like fun." She thought he was fun? Sherlock resisted his own smile, watching Adele coax herself into sleep. Slowly he rose, shutting the front door behind him and trailed up the stairs where he was greeted by John, who was snickering.

"Uh, uh, uh…" John joked, making fun of Sherlock's stuttering.

"Piss off." Sherlock grumbled, shoving past the former army medic.

* * *

_**Adele Banks**_

I stirred in the chair, my joints ached and I debated getting a small futon but then again, how was I supposed to get it down here? More importantly I probably couldn't afford it right now. I was running low on funds, and while I still had a decent amount left I didn't want to spend it needlessly. With a heavy sigh I showered, and had my usual meager breakfast.

My texting phone was absolutely awesome, I no longer paged my parents and was happy that I could text them. I never used the web or anything else like that, just texting. This thing even had a camera and I enjoyed taking pictures of random this and that's. None of it was of any real importance but they made me happy. Throwing on some jeans and a t-shirt I padded upstairs barefoot, inviting myself into the guy's flat. John was off at work and Sherlock was pouring over papers and books.

"What'cha doing?" I asked, slumping onto the corner of his chair.

"Research." He replied curtly.

"About?"

"Medicines."

I cocked my head, glancing over the fine print. Sherlock did a lot of unexplainable things, and many times he would not offer an explanation unless he was absolutely sure and done with his research. I envied that he could be so focused, I loved to read but it often took me a long time to read a chapter because I was constantly getting lost in myself. My brain consuming me whole and sucking me down into it's bottomless pit of a stomach.

"About our date…" Sherlock's hands still over the papers he was turning over and he looked up at me, striking cheekbones pulled tight as he scrutinized over me.

"Yes?" He probably thought I was backing out.

"What should I wear?"

"Oh…" Sherlock's shoulders dropped a little, relief washing out the tense knots. "Whatever you are comfortable with Adele." His usage of my name caught me off guard. It sounded strange on his lips, blowing out in a breezy soft whisper.

"Comfortable with?" I blinked, that wasn't helpful at all. "I meant-."

"I know what you meant, and I meant that whatever you wear it doesn't matter because it decides where we'll go." Oh-kay. I scratched my head, was this a sort of game? Sherlock folded his hand neatly over his knees, looking serious.

"You look good in whatever. Just wear what you want to wear as long as you're comfortable in it." I blushed, did Sherlock just give me a compliment?

"Oh okay, I'll think of something then." I replied slowly, "I'll be by your place at six o' clock." Sherlock stood slowly, his back still stiff as a board.

"Goodnight Adele."

"Night Sherlly-sherl." Adele yawned humorously Sherlly-Sherl had to be much worse than Sherlock, yes it definitely was the detective thought dryly, shutting the door quietly behind him.

* * *

_**Sherlock Holmes**_

At six o' clock sharp he rapped his knuckles against the door, counting her steps till the door was opened. Adele was dressed as he predicted. Plain, high-top blue jeans that seemed to be a tad tight around her thighs. She wore a low-cut white shirt, the sleeves hugging her arms while being loose around her belly and the front being shorter than the back. Over it she donned a thick cardigan that was a deep navy shade, complimenting her eyes. Her feet were clad in pointed red heels that were not too high up so that she walked easily. Her only accessories being her usual everyday ones and her wallet. Adele had pulled her hair up in a messy bun, the only make up she wore was a black liquid eyeliner and her chap-stick.

"I just finished getting ready." She said, blushing. No doubt her room was littered with clothes she had tried on and off. Her face was still a little red from scrubbing makeup hastily off.

"You look a lot fancier than me." Adele noted, looking embarrassed giving herself a disdained once over.

"I always look posh." Sherlock murmured sarcastically, pulling Adele out of her apartment before she ran back in to change.

He decided it best they walk, it was still fairly early and not too cold out. Besides, Adele did better when she wasn't in a car.

The whole way the detective and schizophrenic chatted. Mostly, it was Adele talking about whatever suited her and Sherlock mentioning a case or two to her. It interested her a lot, more than he expected it to, regardless though Sherlock tried to keep it as simplified as possible, in Adele's hurry she'd forgotten to take her meds, which was entirely fine by him. He had planned it to happen that way, to try and get her to take a different set of meds that wouldn't make her so loopy. It would not be easy he thought, Adele followed her drug administration very strictly. She even went as far as to make sure she used the same brand of bottled water for every time she took it, sipping the exact amount down for each pill while chanting her little song. Many schizophrenics were extremely suspicious, thinking everyone was out to get them and hurt them, and while Adele didn't exactly show any of this, her paintings certainly did.

"Oh, Italian!" Adele said excitedly, drawing Sherlock out of his thoughts. "I love Italian, but I don't eat it often." Sherlock made a mental note to…thank John later.

"Excellent, the pasta dishes are especially delightful." Sherlock replied, pulling the door open, the inviting warmth beckoning them inside. Once seated Adele gladly took Sherlock's advice, ordering a pasta dish and he the same. While they waited Sherlock noted Adele's jerky movements and her resistance to scratch her neck in precise strokes.

"Have you ever thought of changing your medication Adele?" Sherlock asked looking at her. She slowly looked back, odd pools carrying over him slowly.

"No."

"Even if you could have something better?" Her frown told him no, which he had guessed of course.

"Everything has to be right, it has to be the same."

* * *

_**Adele Banks**_

I never thought of changing anything. Sure my meds took out a huge portion of my day, namely my night life. But I didn't like the dark anyway so I as okay with that. My regime was part of my control over the things I couldn't control.

_Because you're stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid._ –Q

_I'm not stupid. You're stupid_. –Adele

_You're both stupid._ –Rachel

_Why are we fighting? Can't we stop fighting?_ –Roach

"Change isn't a bad thing." Sherlock mused, leaving his palm over the table like he had the day I got out of the hospital.

"I-I know." I hesitantly offered my hand to him, setting it gently into the warm flesh. 'Q' slithered around in my head, scratching the top of my skull. He preferred chaotic Jim over subtle Sherlock.

"But if I don't control the things that go in me, they'll control me from the inside."

'They'll', as in all the little peoples that lived there. I was afraid of what I said, was that too much? Most people, not even Jim knew how strange things got in my noggin. Sherlock seemed to be unfazed by what I said, closing his fingers around my hand.

"No matter what you'll never not be a schizophrenic. But nobody can control you but you. It is hard, but you just have to believe it."

* * *

_**Sherlock Holmes**_

It sounded corny to him, something so mundane and cliché. Yet the detective knew it was true. Adele's toughest hurdle was distinguishing what was and wasn't real.

"Won't you at least try?" Sherlock asked, persistance was key, even though it contradicted what he had just told her. But life was full of contradicting contradictions, seemed contradictingly fitting to him. "It could be much better for you in the long run." I hesitated some more, unsure. Mom had always told me to be very strict with my medications.

_But major mom isn't here._ –Q

"Okay, I'll try it. But if anything goes wrong -."

"It won't." Sherlock assured me, pressing the foreign pills into my hand. I noticed there were only four pills instead of five.

"Clozaril, Zoloft, and Epitol are replacing Prolixin, Lexapro, and Depakote. You don't need Lithium or any substitute for it. I'm actually not sure why you were taking it in the first place." Sherlock said matter-of-factly looking thoughtful. I nodded, wiping my sweaty palm on my hand and quickly popped them in my mouth without my mother's mantra and imagined the pills lurching in my stomach, being attacked by the acidic liquid.

After a while I felt nice, really nice. Not drowsy or strange. Just me. It was a different but welcomed feeling. Happy with his success Sherlock and I enjoyed the rest of our meal and strolled casually around the town square. He assured me that he could have my prescription changed. As we strolled along the pavement, our arms-linked together, I noticed he was smiling, nose tinged pink from the nipping air, not that fake smile he so often did but a genuine smile he probably didn't give out for free. I felt really lucky.

"You should smile more often Sherlock, it looks good on you." I said, grateful that my blush was hidden by the cold. I at least looked bold. He looked down at me curiously, the two of us stopping in front of our apartment complex.

"I had a lot of fun."

"Strangely enough, so did I."

We stood there for a while, staring awkwardly between us, unsure of what else to say. Minds most likely trailing back to the night our lips had almost, _almost_ touched.

"Well, goodnight Adele." Sherlock said finally, shuffling his feet at the door.

"Goodnight Sherlock." I popped a kretek in my mouth, feeling confident enough to stay outside. I waited till he skirted back inside to light the black smoke stick, feeling the vibration in my pocket of my phone. I knew it was Jim he'd been texting me all day, but tonight I'd allow it to be all Sherlock's. It would probably piss Jim off, but oh well. I would willingly regret it later.

* * *

_**Sherlock Holmes**_

He waited a while, knowing she never stayed up past 11pm. Strolling casually Sherlock tossed the door to John's room back, it was above Adele's after-all. She'd hear it better in here and instead of falling asleep on the chair she could do it in her own bed. Slowly he strummed the first chords, jolting the former medic awake.

"Sherlock?! The bloody hell are you doing?" John groaned from his groggy state, eyes squinting from the blaring light from the lamp.

"Just feeling inspired." Sherlock smiled, crisscrossing his bow over the violin. "Well could you be inspired someplace else? I have to go into the office tomorrow."

"No, it'll do nicely in here." Sherlock's violin strung out a slow but melodic tune. John grumbled, crushing his pillow into his ears trying to drown out the absurd violinist. Curse Sherlock to the end of his days John thought.

Meanwhile, downstairs Adele was smiling into her own pillow, letting herself fall asleep to Shrelock's song.

* * *

**Okay! Hope you all enjoyed this chapter ****. I will admit that it was supposed to be out Monday, but I got (and still am) sick and was scrambling this morning to finish it. If it's a little choppy or anything like that I'm sorry! My head is kinda stuffy. It's not so bad now but it took me longer to write my story. Next week I will do the Monday and Thursday thing like I planned to see how well I keep up with it. Anyway thanks again for reading and please review/fav/and follow!**


	13. Chapter 13: Christmas Party

**Okay! First and foremost: I know in the X-mas episode it had already snowed b4 the actual scene, but we're going to pretend that it hadn't yet mmm-kay? And also I want to thank the following for fav/following: Sayuri494, LightSam6161 (and also for follwing me as an author :) ), laceymisawa, liliAnn Jackson, iamthenumber1twilightfan, kittykat0339, &amp; bakeral5! **

**Thanks so much to the following reviewers: Sammie-sue1225 -gotta love that Sherlly-Sherl ;) **

**And a friendly reminder: I can see little to NO red on the computer screen, I try to catch all of my spelling mistakes and apologize beforehand if I miss anything.**

**Hope you all enjoy this chapter! ONWARDS TO DA STORREH!:**

* * *

**Christmas Party**

I liked the tree, and all the other wonderful holly-jolly decorations. But mostly the tree that John and I garnished under Mrs. Hudson's direction while she decorated the fireplace area. I wondered to myself as I popped another shiny bulb on the bristly pine if this was how family events were supposed to be? Back home I was told to sit out of the way, to let Cassie and Jeff do most of the work. I was allowed to fill the stockings or organize the presents under the tree since mom and dad didn't believe in Santa Claus. Other than that I sat out of the way listening to the Christmas music on the radio.

Now that I thought about it, I'd never had a real Christmas with my family before. It was just me observing, but actually, I was okay with it. John and Sherlock were fun to be with and Mrs. Hudson outranked mom in cooking and throwing a party. Then there was Lestrade, he was skeptical at first since he had been one of the few people outside of the '221B weirdo circle' to know about my condition. But one we settled in and got to know each other we got along really well. All and all, I was glad this was my first real Christmas as a 'real ordinary' person.

"Lovely Sherlock, that was lovely!" Mrs. Hudson beamed like a mother fawning over her son with Sherlock doing a slight bow.

"Marvelous." John said, clearing his throat as he plopped a champagne glass into my hands, sitting next to me on the couch. Mrs. Hudson giggled, maybe she had too much to drink I thought when she said that Sherlock should have worn the antlers. Though I wished he had too. They were adorable. Instead I was the one wearing the jingling head decoration, it matched my 'ugly Christmas' sweater. Since Mom and Dad were very avid Christians, they did not promote that Christmas had anything to do with reindeers or a fat man in a red suit or anything like that. So I was happy to really get my feet wet in the 'Christmas spirit'. It was a holiday, people should celebrate it as fun as they wanted to regardless of how they felt religiously. I had even gone out to get matching mistletoe earrings. That Sherlock pointed out were ridiculous for someone my age.

"Some things are best left to the imagination Mrs. Hudson." Sherlock replied politely, at least he was trying to be pleasant to everyone on Christmas, well, not everyone.

"Oh, no thank you Sarah." I shifted awkwardly, retreating to where Lestrade stood. 'Sarah' was actually Jeanette and was John's current girlfriend. I thought she was very pretty with a lovely oval face and shapely lips. She was kind when she spoke to me and I thought she was a good person for John. Jeanette was also a teacher which fascinated me. Wish I could be a teacher. Somehow I feel like that wouldn't turn out well though.

"Oh, no, no, no, no, no. He's not good with names." John murmured, quickly going over to the two at once. 'Q' clawed at the back of my head, he liked it when things got stirred up, he was attracted to it like flies were attracted to rotted meat. Jeanette set the tray down carefully, being cautious to not slam it. Sherlock had to have known he upset her. He wasn't stupid, very much the opposite actually.

* * *

"No, no, no I can get this." Sherlock said, unfazed at the deep waters he was putting John in.

"No, Sarah was the doctor, and then there was the one with the spots, and then the one with the nose, and then who was after the boring teacher?" I skirted around Lestrade, grabbing some of the goodies out of the bowl and shoving the treats into my mouth.

"You alright?" Lestrade asked, eyeing me.

"Very." I mouthed, trying to tune the 'adults' out.

"Nobody." Jeanette replied, folding her arms over her chest trying to be civil. John was staring holes into the wall, if it weren't Christmas or the fact that Jeanette was here, he probably would have punched Sherlock by now.

"Jeanette! Ah, process of elimination." Instead of a fight John tugged his girlfriend away. Murmuring to her as he sat with her. I went to confront Sherlock, because that wasn't nice at all. But more people were filing into the flat and I detoured to stare heavily at the bookcase. The detective must have noticed me because he moved to say something but cringed when he saw who was coming.

"Oh, dear lord." He grumbled, huffing in exasperation as if he were going through far too much tonight.

A cheery woman dressed nicely but a bit too done up for the occasion came in, her heavy coat making her shoulders look bigger.

"Hello everyone. Sorry. Hello." The woman blushed making her ginger hair appear more…ginger? Did that make sense? "Uh, it said on the door just to come up." John strode over to greet her with a pleasant smile.

"Good morning." Everyone said in unison, excluding Sherlock and myself. Me, because I could still feel the tension flowing off of Sherlock and did not want to draw attention to myself.

"Oh, why don't you say hello to each other. Wonderful." The detective grumbled sarcastically with a sneer on his face, waving his bow around childishly. The woman pursed her lips, removing her jacket, revealing a little black dress.

"Hello Adele." She said instead smiling softly at me. I returned it quickly, muttering a jumbled 'hi' and retreated to the corner to perch in the window sill. Maybe that's why I had been told to sit out of the way as a kid. Because I couldn't handle confrontation or large groups of people.

* * *

"Having our Christmas drinkies then?" The woman giggled awkwardly, looking uncomfortable in her outfit. I realized then that she was trying to impress somebody and glanced around the apartment.

"No stopping apparently." Sherlock replied bluntly, sitting down, his face annoyed. That small spark in my brain that occasionally went off put two and two together. She was trying to impress Sherlock. Who appeared to not be interested, his scowl turning his lips in a haughty way, brows knitted together and knuckles bearing white over his knee.

"It's the one day of the year where the kids have to be nice to me, so it's always worth it." Mrs. Hudson beamed, lifting her champagne a little. Definitely drinking I thought with a lopsided grin.

"I'm nice to you." I chirped.

"Well of course you are dear! But you don't come up to eat often, you're too skinny! I'm worried you'll blow away or get sick!" Mrs. Hudson told me sternly as she waggled her finger. I wasn't sure what was bothering Lestrade, he was looking around in disbelief and chugging his drink.

* * *

"John, count on your blog."

"Why?" John moved to where the computer was, leaning over Sherlock's broad shoulder.

"It says 1,895." Sherlock sighed, brows knitted together in agitation.

"Oh no! Christmas is cancelled!" John grumbled in a sarcastic and heated way, slamming his fist on the table as if stating: 'Darn you dastardly blog reading Christmas destroyers!' I actually smiled a little, while watching Lestrade fetch the mystery woman a drink.

"You've got a photograph of me wearing that hat." Sherlock complained, looking even more upset than before.

" 'Cause people like that hat."

"No, they don't. What people?" I moved a little, peeking over John's shoulder to stare at his blog. Even I knew of Sherlock's growing fan base, which was seriously saying something about Sherlock's lack of socialization.

"You're reading the blog? Right now? But it's Christmas." I mused quietly. This apparently made the detective even more annoyed, only this time I was in the range of fire and me talking was the final straw for him. Sherlock rounded on me, mouth thinned into an angry tight line. It made his face seem sharper, like a high-quality Japanese cutting knife.

"Because I wanted to Miss Banks, and if I recall I called John over, not you. And if I wanted to speak to anyone it would not be someone dressed in an ugly Christmas sweater because they want to relive their childhood, since the one they had wasn't good enough so they dress up ridiculously as a reindeer and wears tacky Christmas themed jewelry." I bit the inside of my lip, slowly straightening as I stepped back. I opened my mouth to say something, decided it wasn't worth it, and he was right anyway. Why get mad at the truth? Closing my jaw shut I went away.

* * *

"Jesus Sherlock, what's the matter with you?" John snapped turning to watch me skitter out of the apartment before anyone else could say anything. Probably looking like a kicked puppy.

When I got to my own flat I slowly slipped off the sweater, reindeer headband and earrings. Leaving them on a neat pile on the table. I then grabbed my regular, puffy jacket and this time not kreteks but cigarettes and teetered outside. I wasn't sure when I made the switch, but I admitted they tasted a lot better than what I had been smoking. I lit the cancer-stick, inhaling the toxic fumes, hoping it'd do me in soon.

_**Sorry I was ignoring your texts. Was with Sherlock. Merry Christmas though, hope it's better than mine. –A.B**_

It wasn't a good explanation, but it was a lot better than lying. There was no point in lying to Jim anyway. Somehow, he always knew. I waited a while, glad nobody came to find me. It was just me and my head right now and I liked it –for once. Rachel and I were decorating our own Christmas tree laughing while having lots of fun, with our ugly Christmas sweaters and goofy earrings. 'Q' was being semi-pleasant and Roach was singing Christmas carols horribly but was enjoying itself nonetheless. A soft raspberry noise emitted from the rectangle device, vibrating against my thighs. I figured farting was inappropriate at a Christmas gathering and had turned it down.

_**It's okay damsel, I like a good competition. It'd be no fun if there wasn't one anyway. Sorry about your Christmas, we'll get together sometime and I'll make it all better. –J.M**_

_**Looking forward to it. – A.B**_

* * *

I shoved the phone back in my pocket, lighting another cigarette. I planned to sit outside till I finished the entire pack, even if it made me sick, I'd welcome it. It was better than feeling what I felt now. To think I could fit in with a group of people had been stupid. I must have sat outside for a while though because my fingers and legs were numb, stinging with frost. I ignored the shadows licking around my feet, letting myself sink inside without my meds. The cigarettes were gone and it was just me and Rachel rocking on our sloshy world.

_Remember when Mamu would make the snicker doodles? –_Adele

_Yeah, they were yummy. Where you been sissy? I missed you. –_Rachel

_Gone. –_Adele

_You promised you'd always be there. –_Rachel

_I'm a liar. Lies after lies why do you still believe me? –_Adele

_Because it's your fault I'm here, it's the least you could do. –_Rachel

_I want to be where you are sometimes. –_Adele

_It should have been you. You took everything from me –_Rachel

"Adele?" Like being pulled out of water I was awakened from my delusion and looked around me, twisting awkwardly to stare up at Sherlock.

"Oh. I'll be out of your way in a minute." I grunted, slowly standing, feeling the blood flood through my legs. Sherlock was on a step higher, towering over me even more than usual.

"Stay. I wanted to apologize to you." Sherlock replied, digging around in his pocket lifting something small out. I realized it was my earrings from the party. With a quick movement Sherlock popped the earrings through the small slits through my lobes.

"Nobody pulls off mistletoe earrings like you." He told me, dropping his hand down. I snorted softly, a plume of white chilly air coming out of my mouth. Reminding me of the dragons from my stories.

"You're just saying that to be nice and to make me feel better about looking like an idiot."

"I'm serious. I liked it. " He said earnestly, blue-green eyes unblinking. The collar of his coat grazing below his cheeks.

"Well, thanks." I murmured staring at my scuffed sneakers. It felt weird to be complimented. I can't recall very many times I had been. "So, how's your detective work going? You know, with Irene and all that?" Sherlock shrugged, nonchalantly like it didn't bother him that he was stumped. "I don't have much right now. Things aren't adding up."

"They will, you're Sherlock Holmes, you figure out everything." I told him quietly. "I don't read John's blog…because you know. But I listen when he talks about it." Sherlock rolled his eyes, but just slightly his lips curved and I felt my mood lifting greatly.

"You too? God, I thought you were more complex than that...Why not join me on a case?" My fingers paused, ceasing the messy braid in my jacket's draw strings.

"I'd just get in the way. I'm not really useful at all. Besides, crazy and complex are two entirely different things."

"How do you know?"

"Because Sherlock, I just know." Said detective almost laughed, almost but instead he turned his face away to glance up at the sky, squinting his eyes.

"It's going to snow." Sherlock mused to me, causing my eyes to trail to where his lingered. It was a light brown, reminding me of coffee with creamer in it. It was going to snow, in fact it already was. The air smelled of fire logs and winter, something I looked forward to every year. I loved winter.

"The first snow fall." I smiled holding out my tongue to catch the quarter sized flakes.

"My sister and I used to wait for it and would play in it even though it hadn't set into the ground yet. I'm glad I could spend it with you Sherlock." Casting a glance at the detective I noticed he was leaning down, eyes a fiery blaze.

"Merry Christmas Adele." In a swift motion Sherlock brushed his lips against mine, surprising me with how warm they were. "I'm glad to spend it with you too." His coat left a warm draft open to me, Sherlock's free hand grasping mine as he pulled away.

"Merry Christmas Sherlock." I breathed, leaning against him, listening to the steady thumping of his heart. This was officially the best Christmas. Ever.

* * *

**Irene Adler**

_**Losing your boyfriend are we? –J.M**_

_**He's business. –I.A **_

_**Do you expect me to buy that? In any case, I want to know all about Sherlock's infatuation with the girl. And vice versa. –J.M**_

_**Afraid you'll lose your little toy? –I.A**_

_**:) She belongs to me, any harm done to her and I **__**will**__** turn you into a pair of shoes. –J.M**_

The woman tossed the disposable phone onto the table, her usual regal appearance etched in creases of unattractive worry. Having sent her 'insurance' to Sherlock she wasn't sure of how high on the ladder she was anymore. She had overestimated her abilities and had ended up in Jim Moriarty's trap instead of the opposite. Now she was to do his petty 'home-wrecker' bidding among other things, although she knew she really didn't mind. Brainy was especially the new sexy, and Sherlock was all brain. Irene was determined to at least have some of him if not all.

* * *

**OK! And that's it for this Chapter, things are going to get a little more serious from here on out so be prepared, I gave it the 'M' rating for a reason. Let me know what you thought thought :) **


	14. Chapter 14: Playing Detective

**OMG! Thank you to the follow for following/favoriting both my stories and myself as an author. It really does blow me away everytime, because I see new people coming and enjoying what I write. It's oddly humbling lol: Oceanid85, TimePhoenix10, echo2013, Snakewhisperer, and Smiele!**

**To the reviewers: I love all of my reviewers equally but nobody has ever expressed their liking my story so much that they needed to thank me for being alive :D you gave me the feels having the feels! I almost exploded with happiness! And I can't thank you all enough for enjoying it so much! The pairing is really a dilemma and I don't really want to decide haha, I also loved the nicknames**

**MORDELE/ADELOCK! Those were great! kie1993 &amp; TimePhoenix10! You guys are so awesome!**

* * *

**Playing Detective**

**More than a 1/4 of individuals with severe mental illness (SMI) were victims of violent crimes in the past year. That is eleven times the rate in the general population. Other studies have also shown that people suffering from SMI that live in a community are in a vulnerable position to becoming victims of crime.** **Symptoms associated with severe mental illness, such as disorganized thought processes, impulsivity and poor planning and problem solving may compromise one's ability to perceive risks and protect oneself from posed danger.**

* * *

**Jim Moriarty**

He tapped his pen, staring down at the photographs and articles before him. Both past and present. Some being from newspapers, others from police reports and even top secret documents that he had smuggled away from Mycroft Holmes, which had been an astonishing disappointment, because even his source was limited.

Clever Jim was searching for was something far more valuable. Because something wasn't adding up. Everything he pursued was studied and learned like the back of his hand. But not Adele, she was as smudged and blurry as her mind was, making it hard to really know her as if she were a part of him. Something was off and Jim was determined to find out what.

Shifting slowly, Jim flipped the newspaper articles, skimming through them. In early 1995 she had spent the year in the hospital for reasons that were not to be disclosed under her mother and father's wishes. Jim wondered what happened in that time to Adele, his damsel that would have landed her in the infirmary for a whole solid year. At first glance he had figured she had gotten sick. It wasn't until later on that Jim discovered that her hospital trips were abundant between 1995-1997, but no permanent stays.

With nearly three years accumulated time Adele had roughly spent about 156 weeks visiting the doctor. Either she needed to consume more apples, or she had a terminal illness. Apples being entirely irrelevant to anything, Jim set out to find out about an illness that Adele had failed to mention only to come out empty handed. She had never been terminally ill in fact was physically healthy, hardly ever grazing the common cold. Scouring her medical records was like trying to break into Fort Knox, an easy enough feat for Jim, but you get the point. If not sick why hide it the way her parents were hiding it?

Then sometime shortly after 1997 at age six, she was once again omitted to the hospital and stayed much longer, a total of two years to be exact. It's also around this time newspapers started writing about her sister Rachel, talking of her self-destruction. Which fit into the time-line that Adele had originally given the consultant criminal.

Where it got really confusing was Adele's parents. They never did an open interview to anyone and even went as far as not holding a funeral for their lost kid. Nor did the paper ever mention either twin's name, merely stating the 'Banks child' over and over again. Most was speculation and a lot of it rumor. Nobody even knew their names Jim thought which was strange for a place of a small population. Not until Adele had allegedly escaped from the hospital, wandering town until a local police officer spotted her. Jim grasped the _only_ record of an outside witness to Adele.

"_She just walked around, looking for a friend. I didn't know she was the Bank's kid until she said her name, 'Addy Banks'. Nobody even knows what those kids look like. She wasn't anything like I thought. She just nodded politely and talked like any normal kid would and waited with me until her parents came._

After that event Adele moved back in with her parents and seemingly lived a quiet and normal life. Going to school, participating in activities, joined a book club and art class. It was like nothing had ever happened. Her parents were content in it being that way it seemed.

Jim picked up the recent photograph of Adele. She was standing outside her complex, hands stuffed in her jacket as she looked up at the Sherlock Holmes who was glancing down at her, lips parted as he said something to her. Adele's mouth was pulled in a tight line, most likely because of Irene Adler who's silhouette could be seen from inside. Irene had a more 'personal mission' of her own, but why not kill two birds with one stone? Jim was fascinated with Adele's relationship with Sherlock, it was almost love/hate being brought together by their own uniqueness. However, as 'fascinating' as it was, Jim had already decided that Adele was his prize. After all, he'd seen Adele first, well for what she really was anyway.

Jim felt like it was time to find out just how much his little damsel could handle, starting with the girl's parents. He figured it was time to meet them.

"We're going to have a lot of fun my dear. Lots and lots of fun." Jim planted a quick kiss on her picture before dropping it onto the dark stained desk and picked up his cell.

"Get me a flight to America."

* * *

**Adele Banks**

For a little while Sherlock had been in a snappy bad mood, having believed that Irene Adler was dead. In fact she'd done a stupendous job fooling us. We'd even gone to the city morgue and looked at Irene's defaced body. I had learned that when Sherlock was in a bad mood to steer clear of him. But all that seemed chip-chip-cheerio now that said woman was back from the dead and was apparently sticking around. He even expressed some kindness to when some secret agents attacked her.

Now I had to sit here upon Sherlock's insistence while she talked in her silk like robe of dark blue. It's not like I was part of the case so why did I even need to be here? A part of me wondered if the whole Christmas thing had been a 'rebound' sort of thing. Irene dies, so Sherlock moves on to the next best thing? Didn't seem like something the detective would do but here I was, staring at him staring at her like I wasn't here.

"Molly Hooper. She could collect it, take an advance then one of your homeless network could bring it here, leave it in the café and one of the boys downstairs could bring it up in the back." John said his face serious.

"Very good John. Excellent plan. Full of intelligent precautions." Sherlock replied, something gave me the feeling he was being very sarcastic.

"Thank you so why don't I phone-?" John sighed with agitation as Sherlock pulled out Irene's phone from his pocket. I let my knee drop down, uncrossing my legs and stood.

"Well I'm off, I've had enough of you 'smart people' games for today and probably forever. Need to go job hunting like regular 'normies'. See ya." I grabbed my wool sweated and backpack , swinging it over my shoulder.

"Sit down Adele. You're not job hunting. Your father forbade you, which is why he sent you money to your account." Sherlock said, still staring at Irene who was looking at me bemused.

"Hm, first off I'm not going to ask how you know that, secondly I suppose you think I just do as I'm told." Sherlock cocked his head, the first time that day his eyes meeting mine.

"I would expect you to do something that has to do with you caring for your health." I shrugged, "I'm not doing anything to hurt me, dad knows that. Besides everyone misbehaves. Look at Irene she's a shining bad girl."

I turned on my heel ignoring Sherlock's half surprised look. Except he always had a way of stopping people in their tracks.

"You live here Adele, whoever is after Irene is going to assume you are associated with her." I let my hands drop to my sides, letting my shoulders slump a little.

"I hardly know her!" I snapped once I faced him again.

"We could get acquainted." Irene replied haughtily, even without makeup she looked flawless.

"He's right Adele, you should stay here." John joined in, pressing his mouth in a tight smile, like he were telling me he was sorry for not being on my side.

With a scoff I sat back down, seat still warm. Traitor.

* * *

"So, what do you keep on here, in general I mean?" Sherlock rolled the device in his hand, causing me to feel sick. I hated full functioning cellular devices. Irene traced her way in a small half circle, stopping short as she folded her arms.

"Pictures, information, anything I might find useful."

"You mean blackmail?" John asked to which the woman replied promptly with 'protection'. In my opinion it was the same thing, but if you wanted to make it fancy that was fine.

"I make my way in the world. I misbehave. I like to know people will be on my side exactly when I need them to be."

_You misbehave too, all the time. –Q_

_No I don't. I used to but not anymore. –Adele_

_But you want to. Don't lie. –Q_

"So how do you acquire this information?" Sherlock asked coyly, tipping his chin so he met Irene's vigor despite sitting down. It bothered me, literally bothered me. And it's not like we were dating or anything so I had no right to be bothered at all. But Sherlock only ever looked down to me, I don't think he believed I could match his intelligence, but then again I couldn't and once again why am I complaining? All I knew was that I wanted to tie Irene's hair in carefully constructed knots to the bed like the fairies did in legends.

"I told you, I misbehave." Irene smiled, pulling me out of my thoughts. "But you've acquired something that's more danger than protection. Do you know what it is?" I resisted the urge to openly sigh, as the seemingly endless banter went on and on.

"Yes. But I don't understand it." Irene's smile slowly fell, she must hate to admit that she couldn't figure something out.

"I assumed. Show me."

"Can I please be excused?" I asked, "I really don't need to know any of this." The detective replied without looking, keeping his icy gaze on the domainitrix .

"Too late, you already know too much. If you wanted to leave you should have done so five minutes ago." I almost snapped at him,

"You mean when I was actually trying to leave?"

"Precisely." Oh how Sherlock could be aggravating, how did John put up with him? On queue the former military medic shrugged when I gazed at him, perhaps even he didn't know.

"It's not working." Irene mumbled, looking at her phone in bewilderment. Sherlock rose, brushing past me. I was close to tying both of their hairs into knots.

"No, because it's a duplicate that I have made into what you've just entered the numbers 1058, assumed you'd choose something more specific than that. But, oh, thanks anyway." Irene winked at me, her brows knitted together, hiding her smug face. If she really was in league with Jim Moriarty then she had to have some smarts at least. I think Sherlock was about to have his panties knocked right off of him.

* * *

The device made a soft blaring noise, causing Sherlock to stare at the phone exaggeratedly, I snorted with laughter.

"Way to toot your own horn detective." Irene appeared to agree, she looked so delighted bouncing on the heels of her feet.

"I told you that camera phone was my life. I know when it's in my hand." The detective's lip pursed tightly, he hated to admit defeat more than anyone.

"Oh, you're rather good." Which was followed by a 'shut up Adele'. I didn't mind much, it was nice to see him so edgy after he'd been a total butt to me this past week.

"You're not so bad." Irene purred seductively. Catching both John and I's attention, we glanced awkwardly between each other.

"Hamish." John said finally, sick of the tense, lustrous feeling in the air. "John Hamish Watson. Just if you're looking for baby names."

"Or Adele, Adele's a nice name. Don't you think so John?"

"Very much, quite clever." John replied.

As usual, our snide remarks did not stump , instead she went on as if nothing had ever happened.

"There was a man. An M.O.D. official, and I knew what he liked. One of the things he liked was showing off. He told me this E-mail was going to save the world. He didn't know it, but I photographed it…he was a bit tied up at the time. It's a bit small on the screen, can you read it?" Irene glanced at me, her lips curling in their usual seductress way.

"Yes." Sherlock mumbled more to himself than to anyone else.

"Code, obviously…Do you like to be tied up Addy?" I blushed and looked away from the woman's smoldering gaze. Trying to sound witty when I spoke.

"I thought you and Sherlock were up to making baby names?" The older woman chuckled, folding her arms over her chest.

"I'm gay. I'd prefer to tie you up."

"Hm, well I hate to break it to you but I don't swing that way. And to answer your question I've never been tied up, and would like to keep it that way." Boy, was it getting awkward in here. At least John and I thought so.

"I had one of the best cryptologists in the world look at it. Though he was mostly upside down as I recall, couldn't figure it out." Sherlock pulled the phone closer to his face, tapping the screen occasionally.

"What can you do ? Go on. Impress a girl." I almost screamed, 'Q' fighting to get out as Irene planted her lips directly against Sherlock. He didn't seem to mind at all, not one bit. And like everyone else in the room, went on like everything was absolutely normal.

"There's a margin for error, but I'm pretty sure there's a 747 leaving Heathrow tomorrow at 6:30 in the evening for Baltimore. Apparently it's going to save the world."

* * *

Whatever else Sherlock said I ignored, hurriedly checking the vibration in my pocket.

_**Having fun? –J.M**_

_**No –A.B**_

_**Is it because of Irene? –J.M**_

_**She's got nothing to do with it. Where've you been anyway? –A.B**_

_**Doing some research. Let's meet up. How bout where we first met? –J.M**_

_**Be there in 10 –A.B**_

I stood up abruptly, stuffing the phone in my coat.

"Got a date, be back whenever." I said with relief. Wanting to escape these people.

"I thought it was to look for jobs?" Sherlock asked casually, eyes drawling lazily over me.

"Evidently I lied about that."

"Funny, you didn't seem like the easy type." Sherlock bit out, trying to cover the malice underneath. I stopped just short of the door, having the option of not saying something, but I was tired of not saying something so I turned on my heels with 'Q's much input.

"The same could be said for you Mr. Holmes." And just like that I snapped the door behind me, hopping down the stairs carefully. Making sure I had my pills with me.

"What…just happened?" John asked, glancing from the door, to Irene, and then to Sherlock. With only Irene being quick enough to understand what was going on.

* * *

**OK! That's chapter 14! Hope you all enjoyed and paid attention to it. I also hope you are reading the little informative pieces that I put in about mental illness, more specifically Schizophrenia. I do want to try and raise it's awareness. Thanks again for all you old/new readers!**


	15. Chapter 15: Kidnapped Sort of

**Chapter 15 is out! Not that long ago was brainstorming, time sure does fly when you're having fun! Many thank you's and warm hugs to those who take the time to review/fav/follow!: **

**Hope of the Darkness, BloodyBlondeVamp, MyCatDoesMyLaundry, dreambig28169, julesarocho, QueenofOpinion, Chuckles the Dalek (hehe this made me giggle), Loveticks500, tenshi92392**

**My reviewr(s): TimePhoenix10. Hehe he's definitely punching holes in it alright, in this chap I'm afraid he doesn't make it any better in the chapter, but then again neither does Jim. Read to see! I'm glad that you're eager for more!**

* * *

**Kidnapped!...Sort of?**

**Media tends to be linked with mental illnesses, including schizophrenia to criminal violence. Most people with schizophrenia are not violent toward other people but are recluse. Prefering to be left alone. Substance abuse such as drugs and alcohol raise the risk of violence in people with schizophrenia, especially if the illness is left untreated and/or undiagnosed. When violence does occur, it is most frequently targeted at family members and friends, and more often takes place at home.**

* * *

The walk was for the most part, uneventful. Which gave me the time to reflect on all that had happened in the past week. It unsettled me that I had allowed myself to feel such shallow feelings for someone that I was not even in a relationship with. Life with Sherlock was certainly not easy, and I wondered if maybe just being his neighbor was possible. I remembered those quiet nights that almost no longer existed.

"Probably not." I hummed, pushing my fingers into my jacket. Upon meeting him, my life was tossed into his basin of chaotic crime solving. That on a few occasions had nearly gotten us killed. Getting involved with things like this gave me an uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach, like I was trying to recall something that wasn't there. I had a bad fascination with murder and mystery. Where the source came from I had no idea, and along with my many problems I felt that I should seek help for it.

"You are oblivious aren't you?" I nearly squealed in surprise, spinning around to see Jim dressed in his usual suit attire, his dark coat giving him an ominous feel when paired with his shades.

"if I'd known you'd dress so nicely, I would have put on something a little better." I laughed nervously, shifting on my toes.

"Nonsense, my business takes up a lot of my time." Jim grinned in his Richardy-rich sort of way that tugged on the longingness I had for that normal sort of guy with the sweet smile and happy face. No matter how informal I was with Jim or how relaxed he became around me I always felt like I was in danger. It was a deadly reminder that Jim was not to be trifled with.

_Never forget you are dancing with a tiger_. I told myself warily, steeling a look at the mastermind.

"Let's walk shall we?" Jim said, offering his arm out to me, linking it gingerly with mine and led us into a steady walk. I filled him in on what I figured he already knew.

"So you don't like solving crimes?" Jim asked, Big Ben coming into view. "It's not that. I have a lot of fun doing it…but something about it makes me nervous. I tell myself I shouldn't be there, I feel like I'm in trouble. I'm not afraid of blood or gore, at least I never thought I was." Jim hummed happily, his phone buzzing aloud.

**Jumbo Jet. Dear me Mr. Holmes, dear me. –J.M**

* * *

He flashed the text into my face, catching me off guard.

"Like I always said, my business takes up much of my time." He told me staring at Big Ben evilly while blowing a fart noise from his mouth. Something told me he just ruined someone's day.

"Now," Smiled Jim with a bit of giddiness, "what if I told you a secret about you that not even you know?" I blinked at him, was he crazy? Who knew more about me than me?

_Of course he is! And so are you. Perfect three are we!_ –Q

"Is…that a joke?" Jim chuckled, strolling over to me, letting his hand brush the hair out of my face.

"No my dear, fortunately it's not." Fortunately? Didn't he mean unfortunately?

"I don't understand. Is...this good?" The consultant laughed this time, twirling us around in a psychotic joyous dance. Two whack jobs, having a go under Big Ben with hundreds of people looking at us for what we were.

"It is especially good. Mostly for me, and if you allow it, it'd be good for you too. All I want is for you to agree to know. Then it's all free will. But I won't tell, not unless you want it." I bit my lip, moving away. Humans really were the only creatures that ignored their instincts when in danger.

'Q' was roaming all around my brain, anticipating the onslaught that he so often craved. Meds only did so much for him though. 'Q's been here with me for as long as I could remember. The other ones came later.

"I-I want to think about it. I don't know." As always –at least with me anyway. Jim was ever patient.

"Alright, I'll give you time. But lets turn this into…a game." Jim produced a manila folder from somewhere in his apparently magical jacket. Plopping its light weight in my hands. Inside it was filled with papers, but no pictures, only descriptions.

"Three people, all within range of dying from…lets say unnatural causes. I want you to figure out who. The longer you take, the closer they are to dying." My palms were sweaty, heart thudding in my throat as I tried to force words out.

"Shhh, let me speak." Jim smiled, eyes wide with danger. "And you mustn't let Sherlock in on our little secret remember? Bad things happen when we let our secrets out."

"It's all of them." I chattered. Feeling my body shaking. It wasn't that cold out. Jim's face was like Christmas all over again.

"Oh? And why's that my damsel? You can't just say all of them without a deduction. Come now, all that time with 'Shrelly-Sherl' had to have rubbed off on you." I wanted to throw up.

"Well, I assume that…because they're people you know. You're too important to waste your time on random people. Plus, there are too many people in London to sift through. Since you know I'm no 'Sherlly-Sherl' you wanted to make it easy. Which makes me think that they're people I….know." Wait a second, I didn't know that many people. Just the onces at 221B Baker Street.

* * *

Jim looked sickeningly dashing as he pulled out three photographs. Sherlock, Mrs. Hudson, and John's pictures screamed out at me.

"I'll give you till midnight my dear, but take your pick, who should go first? You're even going to do the honors." I backed away, holding my chin up, trying not to run away screaming like a school girl whose just seen a spider.

"None of them. None. I want to know." Jim chuckled, wagging his finger in my face while clucking his tongue.

"Tsk tsk. You're not very good at this are you? Let me explain. You have to choose, someone has to inevitably die."

"Its insurance, can't have you telling on me or backing out, you know? I am being quite naughty after all." I felt my hands shaking. The inhabitants of 221B had literally become my family. It was like asking which child you loved the least and shooting them in the head.

"Why are you doing this?"

"Because my damsel. You've been idle for far too long. It's time to lose control, time to set you onto London, the very heart of England." Jim stroked my hair, leading me to a black car. "You have until midnight my dear. Take her home."

When I was dropped off I sat outside for a long time. Dropping my pills into the sewer.

_I need your help. –_Adele

_Who me? Talking to me again now are we? –_Q

_Please I need your help. –_Adele

_No deal. I'll let you suffer. They're your parasites not mine. If you asked me I'd say down with them all. You know, OFF WITH THEIR HEADS! –_Q

* * *

I raked my hand through my hair. Practically inhaling my cigarette like a vacuum. Why couldn't it be Irene, or that guy from the newspaper stand that smells like old gym socks? With a heavy sigh I heaved myself off the concrete steps, and headed inside, taking Sherlock's package that had arrived earlier in the day while I was brooding with me. I didn't bother knocking, which ended up being my mistake.

"Then I'll be delicate." Irene mused softly, perching forward in her seat to let her hand rest over Sherlock's. I don't think they noticed me yet, which was great, I could escape before they noticed my embarrassing entrance. But I just stood there idiotically watching the semi-intimate scene unfold.

"Let's have dinner."

"Why?" Sherlock looked unmoved, and likewise did not pull away. It made me recall our Christmas together and the one or two times we'd gone out for dinner ourselves. Was I really so boring that he'd move on so quickly? If only Irene was one of my 'supposed' victims. I'd do it in a heartbeat…wait, no. No I wouldn't.

"You might be hungry."

"I'm not."

"Good." Maybe it was because Irene was forward, she knew what she wanted, could project herself onto others without hesitation. While I was always hesitating and second-guessing. Sherlock looked down, his hand slowly gripping Irene's.

"Why would I want to have dinner if I wasn't hungry?" My face was boiling hot, they were leaning closer and I coughed, mutilating their moment shamelessly.

"Package, for you. Start answering your door for once." I snapped, letting too much agitation show, dropping the 'fragile' marked box to the ground and stomped out, leaving Sherlock and Irene to ponder after me. My head was swimming horribly and I fumbled for my phone, heaving. A while ago I had did a pick-a-number-one-through-three, and numbered the pics, picking one at random. I'd pulled John. This way it was no hard feelings or anything like that, it was just Jim business.

**I choose John Watson.** –A.B

* * *

I heard a bell ringing, a small one and jumped in surprise. I had been so upset that I hadn't noticed the consultant criminal lounging in the chair. He paid no mind to me, instead clicked away at his phone which made me itchy.

Jim eventually stood up, adjusting his Westwood.

"I won't go anywhere until you tell me your-my secret." He chuckled, clicking his tongue.

"You were never going to kill anyone Addy, I wouldn't let you do that. I still need them after all." A huge breath exhaled out of me.

"Are you serious!? I was practically smashing my head with it!" Jim hushed me, brushing his finger against my lips. I debated chomping down on it. Teach him to fool me.

"I'm sending Sherlock on a mini 'case'. I have an important question for you." Jim maneuvered the room expertly snake-like, facing me with a sort of giddy craze. With Sherlock's footsteps padding out the flat.

"Care to get crazy?" His foot lifted up, nudging my side table roughly on it's side, sending the lamp crashing to the floor. I felt myself giggle a little and covered my mouth, stifling the bubbly laughs.

"See? Is that so bad? Who needs to be in control? Absolutely overrated." Jim smiled, hand tipping the bookcase over. It hit the ground with a deafening thud, books and papers sprawled all around us. Take your medicine my head told me, but I was tired of taking medicine. Tired of being so carefully calculated. This wasn't right though, Jim had just set me against one of my friends, everything screamed danger. But he'd never hurt me, not once. A little bit of fun wouldn't hurt. Would it?

Jim handed me my glass dishes. "Would you do the honors?" I gripped the plates, still giggling with my head bubbling into airy suds, throwing both caution and plates into the window, smashing the fragile pieces into shards. We howled with delight, breaking anything and everything. Jim shoved the heavy hutch against the door when Mrs. Hudson came knocking frantically.

"Adele!? Adele are you alright!? Adele!"

But it was nice to be free, to give up instead of fight, after the frustrations of the day, I was glad to get rid of it.

With a happy snicker, Jim and I filed out the window, racing towards the idle black car. There was hell to pay later, but that was later not now. And I'd deal with it when the storm came.

* * *

**Sherlock Holmes**

He'd gone to a small 'case' which had seemed promising but had turned out to be nothing. His annoyance with this and the event with Adele only increased his foul mood. He didn't understand why it would bother Adele so much. It was business with Irene, wouldn't she know that? Her angry/hurt face bothered him more than anything. Women were complicated creatures with little to no reasoning skills.

His phone buzzed in his pocket and saw the I.D caller.

"What is it Mrs. Hudson?" Sherlock drawled.

"It's me."

"John? Why are you using Mrs. Hudson's phone. I didn't think she was your type."

"Shut up. Get back ASAP. I think Adele was kidnapped." Sherlock stopped in his tracks, imagining a deranged Adele being stuffed in the trunk of some car. He'd known from the look on her face that she hadn't taken her medicine yet.

"I'll be there shortly." Sherlock snapped his phone shut, racing the rest of the way home, fearing the worst. Who kidnaps a Schizophrenic anyway?

* * *

**Hope you all enjoyed this chapter! I did **** it was fun to write! See you all again on Thursday! Ta-ta!**


	16. Chapter 16: Ripping off Tender Bandaids

Tha**nk you so much for reading/faving and following both myself as an author and my stories, it means so much to me!: DragonChick65, AntiPrimax, tibeezy, Imagine Rose, AlexJBlack, and Naiko20!**

**These next 2 chapters are the 'climax' point and are dark. But don't worry, it does get better! Promise! It's a little short but I didn't want to make it super long, it would have been confusing. Next chapter will be longer mmmkay? ONWARDS TO SHERLLY SHERL AND JIM MORI-MARTY!**

* * *

**Ripping off Tender Band-aids**

**Sherlock Holmes**

Adele had put up a tremendous struggle, seemingly moments after he had left for his case which now he see was a distraction. Whoever was behind it had to be clever. Very clever. Broken glass and stray papers littered the floor, along with a cracked bookshelf and an upturned table. There was no blood, which was good Sherlock had thought. It meant that as far as the kidnapping went Adele was unharmed.

"Who steals a person like Adele?" Mrs. Hudson wondered aloud, face etched in endless worry, John's futile attempts to cease it fell on deaf ears. All this time Sherlock had remained silent, there was no pattern, no trail of how the kidnapper came or exited. Yet the window was left ajar, like he wanted Sherlock to follow. Which made sense. Maybe they wanted ransom? But what value did Adele have that this mystery thief would go out of his way to take her? And even then, in the case of ransom the kidnapper generally did not want to meet their victim's in person. There was no indication for a drop off point. It was pushing past the twenty-four hour mark and no call had been made on Adele's behalf. Whoever the kidnapper was they were exceedingly arrogant in their abilities or very stupid.

"For every one question answered, several more arise." Sherlock muttered angrily, kicking the broken plates aside.

"Excuse me! Do you mind? This is a crime scene!" Anderson spat vehemently, fists balled up tightly as he attempted to stare the consultant detective down.

"Shut up Anderson, you'll lower the I.Q of the whole neighborhood." Sherlock shot back, mentally telling himself the brain-stem murderer was not worth quarreling with right now.

"And you're sure you never saw or heard anyone come in?" Lestrade asked, looking over Donovan's notes.

"No. Nobody." The detective finally answered after raking his brain for all that had happened earlier on in the day. "I would have seen them."

"There's only one way into the flat, which is the front door, the window is too high for someone to climb in through." Mrs. Hudson sniffed, having calmed down but was still pretty shaken. "Oh Sherlock, I'm worried. She must be scared."

* * *

**Adele Banks**

It would have been nice, charming even. The baubles of light from the city's street lamps and glowing warmth from people's home, mingling with the faint twinkle from the stars above on the crisp winter night was worthy to remember for years to come. Except I wasn't here to admire the world's offerings. I was here to learn what Jim recalled as 'Adele's legacy and birthright'. I seriously had no idea what that was supposed to mean, but I sat obediently at the out-of-place table. I wondered how it even got up on the roof, it looked exceedingly heavy. In fact, what were we even doing up here?

"Now then, to business." Jim mused professionally, slumping in his own chair casually. My heart thudded a little in my chest, sending a wave of squirmy worms wiggling into my stomach. My nervousness kept my mouth glued shut, plastering my tongue firmly behind my teeth. Jim's face was serious, like the 'first time' I had met him at the pool. Rings of darkness under his black irises gave him a chilling deadliness.

"Okay…" I mumbled, getting a horrible feeling. I was starting to wish that I had taken my meds, the chattering in my brain was far too much for me right now. I needed quiet, peace and quiet.

"A long time ago you told me your sister committed suicide." Jim said, still serious and business-like. "Yes, she severed the major artery." I replied, remembering her limp form with blurriness. I didn't like to think about it.

"Don't you think it odd, that someone who's committing suicide slashed across her abdomen rather than stabbing straight in?"

My brows furrowed, I never saw the wound, in fact all I remember was blood. "She fell...I think…on it." Jim's face ghosted a smile.

"But didn't you say it was deliberate?" Rachel stirred on the inside, prodding my insides. "I fought her. To stop her." I blinked becoming confused. "What's this about anyway?"

"You fought her? Is that why her neck was bruised? The last time I checked, you don't hold someone by their neck to keep them from harming themselves." Jim chuckled, "But don't get me wrong, the whole ordeal was fascinating. In the end however, her death had been an accident. A shame I think, much better if she had actually been murdered."

"Nobody murdered my sister! She commuted suicide!" I fired, feeling my limbs sloshing as I stood up. Slamming my hands on the desk to sneer at him.

"No my damsel. You killed her."

_And stole everything_ –Rachel

"You're lying! I never would have killed Rachel! She was my best friend! I wasn't even sick back then!" My chest heaved up and down, lack of medicine having it's full grasp on me as a swarm of things I didn't understand swirled inside.

"I can prove it Addy. Have I ever lied to you?"

* * *

**Sherlock Holmes**

The package had been like the one many months ago. Undoubtedly it was about Adele, and like the one before he didn't understand it at first. Inside was the Bank's family picture, two samples of hair, and two strands of genetic coding that both showed positive for Schizophrenia. Along with a note that said:

'You don't know everything yet'

Sherlock had assumed that the hair and code was of the Bank's twins. That much he as sure of. At first he figured the picture had been a pointless clue. Telling him what he already knew. Until his tests came back unusual.

One twin had Aniscorcia, the other did not. "But I thought you said they were identical?" Molly chirped, shifting in her usual uneasy way.

"They are. Run them again. They must be wrong." Sherlock told her, sliding the genetic coding and hair back at her. After three or four times of the same thing over and over, Sherlock decided to run the test himself. He thought it so unlike Molly to be so incompetent. But when the test showed up with the same frustratingly annoying result, Sherlock went to the picture begrudgingly for help.

Adele's mother was on the far left side, mouth pressed into a stressed smile, eyes wide with exasperation. In front of her was her son, and to his left was the eldest sister. 's had his arm draped across Adele's shoulder, causing her to lean slightly forward, her face turned with a lopsided grin, hand clasping her sister Rachel's who had begun to stray away. Rachel's face was slightly blurred, making it hard to see her eyes clearly.

"They look identical to me." John said finally after some speculation.

"Only the tests says they're not. We must've run them a thousand times. The samples are in mint condition too, there's no way they are identical." Molly replied quietly, her face contorted in thought.

"Then there's only one thing to do." Sherlock said, pressing his cell to his ear. "Mycroft? I need a favor. Can you get me in touch with Adele's parents?"

After his usual bantering with the elder Holmes, Sherlock grabbed his 'clues' and waltz out of the room.

"Where are you going?" John called after him. "I have a date on Skype." Sherlock called back. "You coming?"

* * *

**Adele Banks**

All my neat walls came tumbling down, crumbling around me in a mess built out of lies that apparently I had created. Without my medicine my emotions were free to rule me, and I allowed it willingly. Letting the black sea of eyes swallow me up, slipping under and slid to the familiar floor of my childhood bedroom. I wanted to stay here forever and never move.

_Forever?_ –Rachel

_Forever._ –Adele

We laid together for what seemed like hours, protected from the outside we were determined to stay in. Because in my mind there was no irony, I could hurt nobody here but me. I was sorry for Rachel, and here I could physically be with her. Even if it wasn't real, besides it's not like I could tell the difference.

"Adele…"

"Adele."

"Adele!"

My eyes opened, fluttering against the painful light of Sherlock's room. I ignored Rachel's fury at abandoning her again. Sherlock had me sitting upright in his bed, an I.V was next to me, attatched to my arm. The bandages were itchy but I resisted the urge to scratch at them.

"What happened? Where's-?" The door opened and Major Mom and General Dad stepped in.

"Oh thank goodness you are alright!" Mom weeped, crushing me with a tight hug.

"Yes, yes, we're all happy to see each other." Shrelock said pointedly, standing up with a sharp glare. "But I think it's time we uncovered all that needs to be uncovered."

"I already know. I killed Rachel." I said immediately feeling tired despite having woke up.

"Honey, it wasn't you're-"

"Oh stop it!" Sherlock barked, "Tell her the truth! All of it! Stop coddling her, she's an adult! She has the right to know about her own life!"

My mouth slanted, I wasn't really up for more surprises. "No, I don't want to know. I can't know."

"It's been nearly two weeks since we found you on the roof. Along with footage of you murdering three people upon someone's order. You not being in control of yourself is far more dangerous than you knowing who you are."

"What!? I never killed anyone! I'd never hurt anyone on purpose! It was an accident! Mom tell them it was-!"

"We haven't been forward. We never realized it'd put you in immediate danger. We thought it'd protect you. You were never able to handle the truth. Every single time you recalled what had happened it hurt you badly…so we took matter into our own hands. We did what we thought was best." Dad said quickly, finger's applying reassuring pressure to my mother's shoulder like it so often did in the past.

"What…did you do?" I swallowed, recalling how Jim had offered to be in control of everything. I was really sure that I didn't want the responsibility of my own life anymore. My parents shared a very uncomfortable look and I knew I was in for another long arduous session of learning about myself. Sherlock was sitting next to me, hand uncharacteristically griping my own.

"You're not alone this time. You can handle everything thrown at you." He told me confidently. I wanted to believe him, I really did. But my trust was shot and I was going based off of nothing.


	17. Chapter 17: Truth Revealed!

**Okay! Chapter 17 is out! I'm sorry it's a bit late! I totally lost track of the days! Which is so not normal for me! . I feel preeeettttty silly! And because I got my days mixed up I won't be posting on Thursday. Again I am sorry! I have no idea what happened! **

**Now on to the important stuff, I wanted to remind you that Schizophrenics sometimes make irrational accusations, or believe that everyone is out to hurt them or use them, especially when they're not on meds. While Adele doesn't do this often, she does do it sometimes, mainly in intense situations**

**Thank you soooooooo much for fav/following: .58**

* * *

**Truth Revealed!**

"It started when you were a baby." Dad said slowly, doing his best to recall the memories long since past. Meanwhile I sat there feeling dumbfounded.

"You fussed a lot, hardly slept, no more than ten to fifteen minutes at a time with large gaps in between. It was hard to calm you. We thought it was colic, when you hit your toddler years you were still very rambunctious. We had to hire a nanny to help keep up with you. And you still did not sleep well, and acted out. Small things like tantrums, or hitting and occasionally stealing things. Again, we thought this was normal, the infamous terrible two stage. When you turned three your attitude only got worse, you strung the neighbor's cat by the tail and hit it with a stick. We started taking you to therapy, and it worked for a while, up until you started school. "

"I was homeschooled." I corrected, trying to follow everything slowly. "I think you have me confused with-"Sherlock nudged my side painfully. "Just listen." He said under his breath, motioning for dad to continue. I didn't really like being nudged, by anyone but decided to let it drop.

"At five you were very creative, and had hordes of imaginary friends. We didn't know how you kept up with them, though you knew all of them like the back of your hand. They changed frequently, you would tell us that you 'made them go away when you didn't like them'. While it was strange, it never seemed to interfere with home or education. It was around when you introduced 'Q' that things got bad." Mom sniffed, dabbing her eyes frequently as her shoulders shuddered.

"You became increasingly violent. Screamed, cried, hit yourself and others, you refused to go outside or watch TV and would sit hours on end in your room scribbling nothing onto paper. You would not get on a school bus or ride in a car. So we pulled you out of school and your mom started homeschooling you. Yet you could also be very docile and easy going. You could be the most loving and accepting person, viewing all life worthy. You became very upset if we swatted at flies or mosquitos. The only one who brought it on was your sister."

"None of this makes sense. I wasn't diagnosed with Schizophrenia until after Rachel –I, killed her. What I did was horrible, and I don't know why I did it because I don't remember." Mom bit her lip, sharing a look with my dad before taking a deep breath.

"It is true that you caused Rachel's death. But you only know what you allowed yourself to know. Much of it being a fabrication of your mind." Sherlock's hand curled around mine, he seemed so out of character today. Then again, everything was out of character.

"You are Rachel. After your sister's death and you came to, you couldn't cope with what you did. You were hysterical. You fell into a catatonic state, your father and I had no idea what to do about it and were left with no choice but to admit you into an asylum. It was on and off mostly, but you did that thing, all the time. Where you repeatedly scratched your neck. Sometimes so much you made it sore and red. It was a full two years before you lived with us again, and when you came back you'd made some changes as to who you were." Dad nodded, keeping his hand firmly on mom's shoulder, like she was the one who needed the most senses.

* * *

"It's true Addy," Dad said, "You firmly belived you were Adele. You made up a whole story, even up until the accident. Your whole life. You changed it."

I laughed out loud, "This is absolutely ridiculous! I'm not gonna sit here and let you spoon feed me your lies!" Mom shook her head, tired, like she expected this.

"Listen to me! We've tried telling you, a hundred times about the truth, but you got upset, you got like this! We couldn't reason with you! Nothing would help and nobody could convince you the truth. So, we decided…that to put you on a regular medicine to prevent you from furthering discovering the truth. A friend of ours was a psychiatric. He prescribed us a higher dose of meds, to keep you very calm."

I'm not sure what was more embarrassing. Knowing you allowed your eight-year-old con you into their lies or drugging them so they couldn't figure out who they were. I was so angry, all this time, everything a lie. How was I supposed to feel? Slowly memories creeped back into me and I remembered all the things that I pushed away. I recalled all the times I had felt like I was the worthless little mouse of the family. I remembered feeling like a letdown, and most of all I remember feeling like I wasn't good enough to belong to Major Mom's picture perfect family. I remembered her narrowed eyes and pursed lips, how she had yelled at me when Adele died. I told her it was an accident. That I hadn't meant it. I think apart of her never forgave me. That's why she sent me away.

"No, you just wanted me to be the kid that I never was!" I exploded standing abruptly with my fists balled up angrily. "You wished I was like Adele! Always making me be 'normal', making me pretend that I was okay when I wasn't!"

"Don't be ridiculous!" Mom exclaimed, glaring at Sherlock, extending her perfectly manicured finger at him accusingly.

"This is why we didn't tell her! This is why we kept it secret! And you had to come meddling in our private matters!" The room erupted into chaotic arguing. I didn't even know who was yelling at who. It made me so angry, everything and everyone.

"You were drugging her into normalcy! How is that better for her!?" Sherlock snapped back. I closed my eyes and covered my ears, trying to will everyone away.

"Shut up. Shut up! Just shut up!" I cried, storming out of Sherlock's bedroom, and out of the apartment. I raced down the street, ears blaring in my head. I ran to the park, it was empty for the most part, excluding the scattered hobo and pigeons. Both who would most likely not bother me. As I sat on the bench, glaring down my legs I realized I had forgotten my jacket and was in shorts in this cold weather. The matter only made my mood worse and I wanted to start throwing rocks.

_Why didn't you tell me? You lied to me!_ –Adele

_You didn't let me tell you._ –Rachel

_It's good you're dead. You deserved it._ –Adele

* * *

I must have sat for at least an hour. My legs and face were completely numb. I wasn't sure I could move, even if I wanted to.

"You could have at least brought a coat." I frowned deeply, staring at the hobo drinking vodka.

"Go away Sherlock." Like always the detective did as he pleases, plopping on the bench with me, tossing his heavy jacket around my shoulders. It was still warm from him wearing it and smelled nice. I let my fingers grasp it, pulling it tightly around myself, covering my knees.

"How long have you known about Jim Moriarty?"

"Since the hospital, just after all the pool stuff. Before that he was Richard." No point in lying to him, and if Jim decided to shoot me now, then oh well. It's not like I had much to lose.

"Blackmail I presume? What do you know of him?" I looked at the detective who was intently gazing at me.

"Only that he was controlling Irene Adler. He said he'd kill me if I told anyone." This, Sherlock knew. Sometime after Adele's conundrum the plane incident happened, and Sherlock discovered the truth about the domanitrix.

"Truth is, I don't know what he wants. He doesn't tell me anything. Most what we talk about has nothing to do with his business. Or whatever you'd call it." I felt horrible inside, all this time all I wanted was to prove I wasn't some dangerous psycho, picked up and moved to another country and made great progress. Then irony goes and slaps me in the face with this BS.

"The world is a horrible place-" I put my hand up, rolling my eyes at Sherlock.

"Stop okay? Just stop. I don't care about the rest of the world or how bad it is. I only care about how bad I am. I killed my sister…and apparently three other people. Maybe those people back home were right. I should be in an institution far away from people."

"You don't even know how it happened." Sherlock scoffed, a puff of white air coming from his mouth. "Her death was still entirely an accident. You dropped the knife before anything even happened. You both slipped on some rocks near the creek and your sister met an unfortunate fate. I wouldn't describe that as murder."

"Oh, and I guess you'd just know all about murder wouldn't you?" Oh wait, I thought. Looking at Sherlock I could see he was giving me the 'are-you-serious-face?'. I almost laughed a little.

"Point taken but it still doesn't make it any better. I just wanted a better life. That's all." Sherlock smile at me, and I wondered if it was his first genuine smile to me.

"Nobody is perfect Adele. That's just superficial belief that humans can be. You are you. And if they don't accept you that way then they don't deserve you." I blinked at him with my cheeks tinged red.

"Do you deserve me Sherlock? I'm no Irene Adler after all…" O.M.G shut up now. You kill people, and then you hit on someone? Seriously, what is wrong with me? I wondered if Sherlock thought the same because he chuckled, taking me with him as he stood.

"Irene Adler? Still jealous are we?"

"I'm not jealous! And I never was!"

"Yes you were."

Sherlock towered above me. I liked the way he looked in winter time.

"I like you much better than Irene Adler. I took her pulse it's different from yours." He took my pulse? When?

"Different…good?" I mused slowly trying to not look eager to know what he was about to say. "Her pulse is a lustful pulse. And yours, it's always happy to see me no matter what." Sherlock's finger traced the underside of my arm, trailing into my palm and laced himself with my own frozen fingers.

"So yes. It was good."

"Even with how I am?" Sherlock chuckled again, moving closer to ward away the frigid air. "Even better than before."

"But I killed people!"

"John has too." Sherlock corrected me, tellingme I shouldn't hold all the 'glory' to myself.

"He was a doctor!" I snorted back. By now we had started walking home. People eyeing us oddly on the street.

"Evidently he had his bad days." The two of us laughed and I gradually felt a little better. It was nice to not be alone. There was just one thing.

"I suppose they're going to be looking for the murderer huh?" I gulped, I wouldn't last in prison. I wasn't an overly strong person and I'd break under that pressure.

"Mycroft covered it up. He owed me a favor." If I ever saw the elder Holmes again, I'd hug him. Whether he be willing or not.

* * *

That night after stuffing my face with delicious food that Mrs. Hudson and mom made together I found myself sprawled in Sherlock's bed, flipping through one of his several books. Sherlock was next to me on the other side, scribbling notes.

"So are you a couple now or what?" John asked us from the doorway. "Uh, no?" I replied not sure what to say. I felt like we were more than friends, but it wasn't official, at all. I didn't want to jump to conclusions and decided to leave it at that.

"Oh okay, well, as long as you're not snogging in the living room." John mumbled leaving the room quickly.

"Do we look like a couple?" I asked Sherlock, turning over to see what he was writing. He glanced down at me in thought. Neither of us being with the whole 'it' fashion of coupling.

"Couples look like something?"

"I dunno, I guess? I never had any boyfriends. If Cassie were here she'd be able to tell us." I curled up, grabbing as much of the blankets as possible, I still felt cold from earlier and hoped I wasn't getting sick. At the moment Sherlock was just a heater. His side was pretty comfortable for someone as slim as he, his silk purple shirt soft against my face. I wondered if he always smelled nice.

"Tomorrow will be a better day, right?"

"Only if you let it. Go to sleep." With a heavy yawn I slowly nodded off to sleep, closing my eyes and drifted into a nice and quiet sleep.


	18. Chapter 18: Closer to Me

**OK! So first off, to get it out of the way, this story will be short –sadly. Originally it was supposed to be long BUT it was erased and stupid me hadn't saved it yet. Nearly three hours of work gone! I had a total bitch fit. Nobody likes to see their work erased so easily like that! AAAGH! And of course it had to happen ON MONDAY! SO AGAIN SUPER SORRY ABOUT IT COMING OUT LATE! . My brain is on the verge of collapsing from anguish.I know this looks bad especially because I couldn't put out a chapter on time last week T.T**

**Advice, never leave unfinished work out for itty bitty munchkins to tamper with!**

**Because of the mix-ups and mishaps however, I will be switching back to Thursdays only. I know that that is super lame, but it really bothers me that I have been putting things out late so I would like to switch to something that is more doable. **

**On a happier note, thank you soooo much for those who have fav'd/follow'd/ both myself and my story, it really does make me happy: GVCatullus, wireless-bird, SterlingStorm, Marvgrrl81, A.K.A Author Unknown, 'Sydney, creeds angel, TheNikkiCat, UncreditedWriter, JazzyPoole, NeleBMTH, aryaneragon4ever, Cyanic, SnowLeopard167 and Whimsy Jahoda! You guys are great thanks so much!**

**Thank you for reviewing: ApatheticGamer &amp; Oceanid85! I'm glad you all like the story, and I also think it's a cute story, I don't particularly like super sad or anguish stories so was attempting for something in between lol.**

* * *

**Closer to Me**

I twisted underneath the covers. Groaning as I fumbled around, trying to regain some sense of where I was. My hand slapped against Shrelock's ribcage and I slowly recalled all the previous days events. It was foggy but I wondered when we'd actually fallen asleep. As quietly as possible I tried to slip unnoticed out of bed, careful not to disturb the snoozing detective too much.

"You really are terrible at being stealthy." Sherlock grumbled from his pillow, sitting up while rubbing his eyes.

"Or maybe you're a light sleeper. Which surprises me because you don't sleep much." Sherlock shrugged, flipping the light to give us a better view of the darkened room. How was it that he still looked well kept, even after waking? Meanwhile I was all disoriented and out of sorts with appearance. My hair bunched in knotted tangles, hanging limply over my wrinkly shirt and sweats. Weren't women supposed to be graceful? Or was Cassie just special?

"That's irrelevant. People don't require the full eight hour sleep that we claim. It's a waste to sleep that long." I sighed, shaking my head. "Yeah well, some people like to sleep in more than eight hours, which happens to be me. So I'll just hop on over downstairs and sleep on the couch." I began to throw my legs over the side of the bed, flinching at the floors coldness.

"Jim Moriarty…what do you feel for him?" Sherlock's question caught me off guard. It wasn't something I expected him to ask about. Nor something I had ever thought about. What did I feel for Jim? I could admit that I was attracted to him. I really loved that he embraced his Jim-ness. I liked that instead of masking his psychotic megalomaniac personality, Jim worked with it and implied it to his life. Wrong as it was it was just Jim. Better to be true to yourself than be some fake ass person people were too often these days. Maybe I aspired to be like that. To break free of my confines of normalcy and just be me. Because to be honest I felt fake. I hated pretending. I wanted friends but I wanted them to really know me for me. Not something I served up on a silver bejeweled platter.

"I guess. I do kind of." I said slowly, watching Sherlock's cool eyes wander over me. "He's the only person who made me feel like it was welcomed to be me. He wanted me to embrace what I am instead of fitting in. Not even my parents fully accept it. Pill after pill to be who I'm not…to be who Rachel was."

"He will only use you Adele, suck you dry until you no longer amuse him. And like so many others before you, cast you aside in a ditch far away out of town." Sherlock replied immediately, sitting up against the headboard.

"I'm aware of how dangerous Jim is Sherlock. It's…hard to explain." Sherlock pressed his palms together in the common way he did when he was in his mind palace.

"I'm not really looking for love Sherlock. I just want people in my life that know me as me and accept it. The good the bad and the ugly. And I know you said that it wasn't like that with Irene but I can't even compete with someone like her. She's smart, really smart Sherlock. And flawless. When she appeared I didn't exist. It made me wonder. When I cease to amuse _you_, where will I be in your book? What makes you better than Jim Sherlock? What makes you worse? Does it really matter in the end? If everyone around me eventually gets bored with me, does it really matter?"

Sherlock blinked, contemplating my words while I felt a surge or irrational emotions. It must have been a while since I had my meds which would explain a lot. I really hadn't been doing too well in keeping up with taking them. Even though Sherlock's new 'prescription' worked much better. He must have sensed this because he produced a small pill of familiar pills into my hand. I swallowed them without water, grimacing at their awful taste.

Sherlock scoffed lightly, looking away and out the window.

* * *

**Sherlock Holmes**

"You are with endless possibility." Therefore Jim would never tire of you. He thought glumly. Sherlock wondered exactly how was it that Adele went from entirely boring to someone who was a case all on their own. Adele was an endless maze. Sometimes Sherlock found himself wishing he'd never met her. She was contagious in drawing curious minds to her. Did she even realize this? Of course not.

Sherlock had always prided himself in being detached from his emotions. He told himself he had no need for mundane emotions like happiness, sadness, anger, and even love. He had no attachments to people. Not even his blood relatives. He was fine with John. Would never admit that he was a dear friend to him. Mrs. Hudson he could pass off as his housekeeper despite that she held a motherly figure to him. But Adele, what did he do with her? What excuse did he conjure?

Sherlock liked that even though Adele couldn't particularly follow his cases or even what he was saying she enjoyed listening and following as much as she could. She did her best to put her thoughts in and shockingly enough even though her statement was obvious, Sherlock did not reprimand her. Adele sometimes tagged along with him to the morgue. She never partook in his 'studies' of the dead but took rapid notes for him and paid close attention to his evaluation.

Adele the 'walking-vegetable' had grown on the detective and now he was stumbling around to figure out where she belonged in his life. Even more so, he apparently had joint custody of her attentions with Jim Moriarty…his nemesis.

"You are putting yourself in grave danger Adele. Even if you long for true friends you shouldn't do it foolishly." Adele flopped next to him in the bed. The strawberry scent in her hair wafting into his nose.

"Are you jealous Sherlock?" Jealous? Was that all women revolved around?

"No I am not jealous. I do not get jealous." This time it was Adele's turn to scoff, she stared up at him from the pillow.

"And I'm the Queen of England. If you're not ever jealous, why scare all of John's girlfriends away?" She noticed that did she? Sherlock almost smiled. She could be perceptive when she wanted to.

"That's entirely different." His statement regretfully gave Adele ammunition.

"Oh yeah? How?"

Sherlock pursed his lips, half annoyed with her coy lopsided grin.

"Just because." He said, rolling the words over in his head. "But that doesn't matter." The consulting detective shifted, feeling unusually uncomfortable. He fully embraced her odd eyes, but sometimes, just sometimes it was unnerving to have her stare endlessly into you, unblinking and unwavering.

"Mm-hm, okay." She muttered sarcastically, appearing to be disappointed. "I have a 'deduction' for you." Adele gave him a brief grin that looked sluggishly wicked, he assumed the meds hadn't fully kicked in yet.

"I think that you did not have very many friends growing up. You weren't given the charisma and charm that Mycroft has. Maybe he was Mr. Popular growing up. After all, he 'is' the British government. Now as an adult you live as a recluse, away from everyday socialization and night outs with friends. Maybe you're lonely like me, longing to belong to a group who accept you for you. Now that you have John, Mrs. Hudson, and hopefully me. You don't want to let us go."

It was a long time before either person said anything. Eventually without an answer Adele lulled herself back to sleep, her hair sprawled across her shoulders and into his lap where Sherlock sat quietly braiding and unbraiding the raven locks staring holes into the wall.

"That's ridiculous. Loneliness keeps me safe." He muttered softly, listening to Adele's soft breathing.

* * *

**OK, I know that was super short! . Again, I'm sorry! It was supposed to be much longer! I feel really horrible about it too! But I needed to put something out and it's late enough as it is! I haven't even started on the Thursday's chapter so yeah, need to get my butt in gear! Hope to see you all next chapter!**


	19. Chapter 19: No Smokes for You!

**Hip hip hooray for this one being out on time! Hope this one is more pleasing than the last story! Also, I hope the overall story is flowing somewhat to the description I gave in the summary. Someone complained about the story/summary not matching and said it suck on my last story. Which is fine, everyone has their opinions. I should mention that I am no good in summaries 0.0 I felt like it flowed but some may feel differently? Anyway, hopefully this one fits much better, it took me a while to come up with a summary that fit into Fanfiction's word limit, I really don't like leaving it blank but likewise don't want to start over on a new one.**

**ALSO!: The story is probably going to be more drama than angst, which I realize now and will change in the genre section. I really don't think Adele is a super sad person or needs someone to comfort her in her own endeavors. Anyway, hope you all enjoy this one!**

**No Smokes for You!**

The past two weeks had been the hardest I had ever had to endure. Between John cracking 'lover jokes' and my mom –who had stayed for the past two weeks taking them seriously, life at Baker St was a daunting task. Mom rode on Sherlock's 'good will' and 'patience'. I think for my sake he said nothing and tried to keep his smart mouth remarks to a modest-for-Sherlock-minimum. But he was a grumpy person to deal with on most days. The several rows he had with mom, mixed with no cigaretes and no cases had reduced him to blowing 'boredom holes' in the wall with his handgun to just being his typical snappy self to being a total jitterbug really stressed me out. I often avoided coming to the guy's flat. But this, this took my stress to a whole new level.

Sherlock tromped in, bloodied from head to toe, heaving heavily while sporting a freaking harpoon. Who the hell just walks around with a damned harpoon in the middle of London!? Why, your friendly neighbor Sherlock Holmes of course!

"Ohmygawd! Are you hurt?!" I practically yelped, leaning away. John who was much more used to this sort of thing than I, stared brows raised at the scene before him. Probably thinking the same things I was thinking.

"Well that was tedious." Sherlock sighed, ignoring my wide eyed stare and question.

"You went on the tube like that?" John snapped in disbelief.

"None of the cabs would take me." Sherlock snapped back, because it was so rude of them not to take a crazy looking man, covered in blood with a dangerous harpoon.

"Oh, you should complain to the cab company then. Surely they'd understand." I muttered sarcastically.

Sherlock shot me a look, rolling his eyes at me and stomped off to hopefully shower.

"What was that about?" I asked John who still looked as baffled as I felt.

"Dunno. It's Sherlock so there's some reason to it that we 'normies' don't know about." I figured things would have calmed down after his shower but all Sherlock did was pace back and forth rapidly, clutching his harpoon to his chest like he were a soldier. It annoyed me greatly from his rapid stomping to the fact that he offered no explanation to his erratic behavior.

"Nothing?" He grumbled, switching the harpoon back and forth in his hands rapidly.

"Military coup in Uganda."

"Hm." Sherlock dismissed whatever John was saying quickly. Flipping the paper John pointed down at a photo of Sherlcok.

"Another photo with you in…"

"Oh." Sherlock sneered with disgust, I don't know why, the hat looked very good on him. When I pointed it out to him, I decided to move away from the window where he was most likely to shove me out of.

"Cabinet reshuffled."

"Nothing of importance! Oh, God!" Sherlock groaned, slamming the deadly stick on the floor, causing me to jump. I was not a high stress handling girl.

_Gut him like a sausage. –Q_

_No, I will not gut-him-like-a-sausage! –Adele_

_He's making me scared. Make him stop. –Roach _

It was times like these where I really wished Rachel were here, but since finding out the truth I hadn't heard from her at all. I worried that maybe she had gone away completely and left me alone. I hoped she wasn't upset.

"John, I need some. Get me some." I sighed softly folding my arms. He was of course asking for cigarettes. Which John had forbidden him to have.

"No." John replied with a lazy blink. He was like a firm parent who didn't care about his child's oncoming tantrum.

"Get me some." Sherlock commanded "No, cold turkey! We agree, no matter what!" Sherlock sneered, I totally imagined him kicking and screaming and rolling around on the floor with one of those cheerful smiling monkey kid leashes attached to his back.

"Addy," Sherlock crooned sweetly "Please may I have some of your smokes?"

"You know I'm not allowed to smoke either Sherlock. Mother Hen over there told mom and dad about my smokes and with the power of the parental, I no longer have any." Sherlock grabbed my wrists shaking me desperately like he were a crack whore or something, my head jostling crazily on my shoulders.

"But you can get some!"

"No she can't, as part of an arrangement with her mum and dad I now have control over her finances." Yep, it was true. Because of Jim I was being monitored by John. Mom and Dad were happy to have eyes and ears where I lived other than me.

"At least I'm not dragging you back home." Mom told me sternly as she was getting ready to get on the airport. Which was true so I guess I couldn't complain about it too much. Sherlock stamped his feet, turning away.

"Anyway, you paid everyone off remember?" John flipped his paper. "No one in a two mile radius will sell you any." Sheesh, why did the guy put himself in this predicament?

"Stupid idea, whose idea was that?"

John and I stared at the detective, who looked beyond desperate now.

"Mrs. Hudson!" He started flinging papers and boxes all around the place, I had to move away after getting smacked in the face by some cardboard.

"Sherlock you're doing really well. Don't give up now."

"Tell me where they are. Please tell me. Please." The normally cool and collected detective begged. He looked so unstable and this is what the past few days had been like for everyone.

"Just give him a cigarette John." I said, "One won't hurt him."

"No, absolutely not. Because then I'd have to give you one." John replied. I can't say I wasn't out for myself. Because I certainly felt the annoying egging addiction bug now. I was faring well only because og my little secret. I was not limited by cold turkey means. But John had also forbidden patches for Sherlock's sake. So I bought them secretly and in cash. I would share with Sherlock, but since I wasn't supposed to be buying them and had a good amount with my allowance I didn't want to risk getting caught. Sorry Sherlock, every man, or woman for themselves.

"I'll let you know next week's lottery numbers." Sherlock attempted feebly to which John merely chuckled. "It was worth a try." He grumbled. And then the detective stared at me, eyes narrowing as he inched closer.

"I'm gonna get a drink." I said quickly, fleeing while hoping he wouldn't figure it out. I'd done good in hiding my dirty little secret. I couldn't give it up now.

* * *

"Yoo hoo." Mrs. Hudson called coming in, saving me by the bell.

"My secret supply! What have you done with my secret supply!?" I gulped the water down, watching him helplessly flail around on the floor. What I'd do for my camera right now.

"Huh?"

"Cigarettes. What have you done with them? Where are they?" Housekeeper/landlady shared a look with John. Looking upset that she was being accused for doing something she clearly didn't.

"You know you never let me touch your things. Oh, chance would be a fine thing." Sherlock rounded while I took another swig of liquid.

"I thought you weren't my housekeeper."

"I'm not." Mrs. Hudson replied, pursing her lips. One ofthese days she was going to have our heads for giving her so much crap.

"I gotta pee." I chortled happily prancing to the bathroom. Listening to the older woman tell Sherlock to put away his harpoon and offering a cuppa.

"I need something stronger than tea!" Sherlock. He went on to accuse the poor woman of having an affair with a married man, she stormed out, slamming the door behind her. I guess I could share my patch with him, but I really didn't like him picking on Mrs. Hudson. So I'd let him suffer a little longer. That is if he weren't in my face, flashing a horrible light in my eyes.

"We have established that my pupils are jacked up okay? Get that out of my face. You're giving me a headache." I said trying to move out of the bathroom.

"How long have you had them?" Sherlock mused quietly, sniffing my clothes and hair.

"Huh?"

"The patches." Well, crud. "That's none of your business."

"I'll tell John." I gave the detective you wouldn't stare. "That really won't help Sherlock. Because you have no idea how many I have or how long I've been getting by off of them. If there's any possible chance of getting any from me you better play nice. Or I'll flush them."

"John, Adele has smuggled smoke patches onto the premises!" Sherlock howled.

"Seriously Adele!? We established this already!" John slapped the newspaper onto his chair standing with his hands on his hips. I got angry, slapping Sherlock on the shoulder. "I don't see why I have to go cold turkey! It's not fair!"

"You know why! For Sherlock's sake!" John fired back, "And I'm taking away from your allowance!" Sherlock looked smug, but only for a moment before I launched for his face, sending the two of us flying into the ground, kicking and screaming.

* * *

**John Watson**

It had literally become a madhouse. All they needed was gladiator armor and the scene would be film worthy. Gladiators fight to the death over cigarettes. Sherlock had his finger curled into Adele's cheek, attempting to painfully rip the angry woman off of his chest. Adele in turn, had both fists balled tightly in his hair, slamming his head repeatedly into the floor. Thump. Thump. Thump. Went Sherlock's head. Ow! Ow! Ow! Went a muffled Adele.

"I need a case!" Sherlock howled, tossing Adele off of him finally.

"You just solved one by harpooning a dead pig apparently!" John snapped. He needed a vacation. A very long vacation.

"That was this morning! When's the next one?"

"Nothing on the website?"

* * *

**Adele Banks**

I sat on the arm of Sherlock's chair, rubbing my cheek. I'm sure he would have knots later on so I suppose it was even. In a frilly child's voice Sherlock drawled on.

"Dear Mr. Sherlock Holmes, I can't find Bluebell anywhere." Was he seriously talking about the missing rabbit? I raised my brows staring up at him questioningly. "Please, please, please, can you help me?"

"Bluebell?"

"A rabbit John! Ah, but there's more. Before Bluebell disappeared it turned luminous. Like a fairy, according to little Kirstie!" I watched Sherlock dance around like an idiot. I think I wanted new flat mates.

"Then the next morning, Bluebell was gone. Hutch still locked, no sign of a forced entry. What am I saying? This is brilliant." Was he serious? I give an uncertain look to John.

"Phone Lestrade. Tell him there's an escaped rabbit"

"Are you serious?"

"It's this or cluedo."

"Uh, no. We are never playing that again." John said, standing abruptly.

I got up, ready to leave. I was going to slap some more patches on my arms and take a nice warm bath. I paid little mind to the guy heading upstairs, closing my front door softly. Normally I didn't smoke in the house, but it was how I hid my secret. Pulling the cancer stick I popped it in my mouth, and inhaled slowly.

I could hear the chattering upstairs, Sherlock was probably showing off to the client. Which was perfectly normal for him. After some more inaudible talking I could count Sherlock's steps down the stairs, taking 15 steps to my flat.

"Come in." I called. Without pause the detective filled in.

"I have a case." He said very happily. This was the norm for us. We could be totally fine one minute then ripping each other's faces off the next then going back to being very much okay.

"Awesome where to?"

"Dartmoor."

"Never been."

"Want to?" I slanted my mouth. "You want me to go on a case with you? Haven't we established that I'm pretty slow with following?"

"Well, yes. But I'd like to have you along."

"I guess it'd be nice. I don't have anything else to do." Sherlock was practically beaming. Maybe John and I should make sure he always had a case lined up.

"Still need a patch?"

"Nah, I got a case now."

The very next morning I had my bags packed and ready, trailing groggily behind John.

"Don't worry, plenty of travelling to do. So you'll get your rest." John told me, jumping at the sound of dough being flung at the window. The three of us turned, watching Mrs. Hudson scream at the baker.

"Oh, looks like Mrs. Hudson finally got to the wife in Doncaster." John said, watching through the window.

"Hm. Wait till she finds out about the one in Islamabad." Who wanted more than one wife? Seemed like more of a pain in my opinion.

"I hope that when I get married he sticks to having one wife." I yawned, stretching as we filed into the cabbie.

"I'll make sure of it." John smiled, the two of us chuckling together. It was ridiculously early, but at least we could still have fun.

"Paddington Station please." Sherlock told the cabbie, and we were off, bumping down the road. And then turned to me with a questioning gaze.

"So, Addy. What do you look for in a husband anyway…just curious."

"I don't know. You tell me."

"Hmpfh. Don't be ridiculous." I shrugged and stared out the window, wanting the car to lull me back to sleep.

* * *

**Sherlock Holmes**

He never really thought of Adele being married. Not because he felt she couldn't manage that domestic life. But because he couldn't think of someone who'd necessarily be okay with it coming down to maybe taking care of Adele entirely. And the more he thought of her being in an intimate relationship the angrier he got.

What made this person think they could handle her? What made this person believe they could just have her? Then again, why was it his business? Because she was his friend Sherlock told himself. Her inability to flee from danger though it stared her in the face, breathing the very life of her in she didn't run away from it. Like Jim, she knew he was perfectly capable of killing her and still remained attatched to him.

In an effort to keep her safe Sherlock smashed her phone to tiny bits and then told her that it was not at the scene of the crime, hopelessly lost forever. Thankfully she believed him, too dazed to question him. But this flaw is what also drew him in, like Jim. Adele was so entirely ordinary looking that you never guessed how unpredictable she was. She was a vast sea of random mishaps and decisions. Everything she did you had to stop and ponder exactly what made her do that.

As said girl fell back to sleep John cleared his throat.

"Why don't you seal the deal Sherlock?"

"Afraid I don't catch your meaning." Sherlock bit back, exactly catching his meaning. John sighed, it was a never ending battle with this man.

"A lot more people would be willing to be with Adele in that sense than you give her credit for." John said, referring to Adele's looming Schizophrenia. It really was a big deal but John didn't believe that Adele couldn't find love. She was a happy girl, with lots of affection to hand out. She had a bubbly personality and quirks. Who could not be drawn in by this lovely person?

"I am not physically attracted to her." Sherlock argued, turning to look out on the passing scenes.

"Oh, right and you also don't watch her like a hawk. Do yourself a favor Sherlock and just admit to it. She won't be available forever. Sooner or later someone special will sweep her off her feet and he probably won't be you."

It was silent the rest of the ride to Paddington. Much was on the detective's mind. Not necessarily good when he was getting ready to work on a case. He needed a distraction from Adele and questioned his asking her to come along. Hopefully she wouldn't pose too much of a problem.


	20. Chapter 20: The Hound Pt 1

**This chapter was very hard because it's the 'Hound of Baskerville' and will most likely have a part 2. The whole story for this episode in the Sherlock series is important, and I thought that it'd be very interesting considering Adele's condition. Well it's certainly not a walk in the park lol. And I'm afraid it kinda sorta turned into a 'filler' chapter (boo!) But at the same time I realize that it won't be much longer till the Reichenbach Fall and there really hasn't been too much romance even though it's supposed to be a romance story. So I suppose I'm going to try and speed things up a little. I know for the Jim fans out there you're probably wondering where he's ate, and he will show up just when he's supposed to. Right now it's Sherlock's time to shine. I'm still iffy on how this story is going to play out, have a lot of ideas so we'll see mmmkayy?**

**Thanks so much for fav/following myself and my story!: Blue Wolf29, Jordan Lynn 7, AFireflyInSerenity, , truesparks, Carlypso, Isabel M. Milner, stygg-ulven**

**And to those who reviewed!: AFireflyInSerenity &amp; Carlypso Thank you so much for giving me your thoughts **** I really love and appreciate it! I'm glad you all are enjoying the story thus far, and I'm glad that you feel it's worth reading! I'm also very happy that you appreciate my attempts at raising awareness for mental health! **

**Again thanks so much everyone for your support! I love it so much!**

* * *

**The Hound Pt 1**

It was midday by the time we reached Dartmoor. It was a beautiful and serene place with long rolling green hills that drawled on as far as the eye could see. We had stopped at this large boulder formation where john precariously checked his map. Sherlock perched at the top of the rocks looking far out in the distance while I scurried at the bottom, hoping to find some interesting artifact like Indiana Jones. I've always wanted to be cool like him, be this super courageous adventurer.

"There's Baskerville." John pointed to the far side of the hill then turned to the other direction. "That's Grimpen village, so that must be…yes, Dewar's hollow." England had such cool names for things. Meanwhile America had to have at least two of every name probably. None of them being remotely interesting sounding like 'Grimpen' or 'Dewar'.

"What's that?" Sherlock pointed to the buildings across from us. John peeked through his binoculars, squinting through the glass.

"Minefield? Technically Baskerfillve is an army base. So I guess they've always been keen to keep people out" John replied, leaning forward as if that would answer his question better.

"But mines? Isn't that a bit…eh, extreme? At least they put signs up I guess." I said, checking the ground around my feet for mines. Not that I knew what they actually looked like.

"Clearly." Sherlock replied sternly. I wondered if he was going to slip back into his moody demeanor. If he was, I wasn't going to lay down and take it this time.

We drove onwards some more, arriving at the cutest little lodging area called The Cross Keys. It was adorable with its wash white cobblestone and simple but pretty landscaping. We passed a group who was interested in a 'Beware the Hound' tour.

"Do they actually believe in a giant rabid dog?" I asked quietly, practically running to keep up with the guys.

"You believe there are people in your head." Sherlock said, I glared at him, lips pursing into a thin line.

"That's completely different. I know they're not real. They're just there okay?" I stomped forward, wrenching the door open and 'accidentally' smacked Sherlock in the face with it.

"Oops, my bad." I giggled hopping in, barely hearing John say "You deserved it."

I sipped my beer happily. John allowed me some money for the trip since I'd never been here and as I sat at the counter I refrained from guffawing stupidly.

"Sorry we couldn't do a double room for you boys." Everyone always thought they were gay.

"That's fine. We're not—"Poor john always stammering to say they weren't gay while Sherlock never offered up any sort of excuse which really didn't help the ex-military medic. I moved away, glass in hand as I shifted over to Sherlock.

"It's so nice here." I mused,

"Hm." Right, he was in think mode. I moved off to the side, jumping slightly at the touch of a hand.

"Where are you going?" Sherlock asked, staring at me questioningly. "Well I was going to go talk to the tour-guide. I want to help too." Sherlock paused, mouth slanted, it made me kinda nervous just standing there and being stared at.

"Lets have a chat with him together, shall we?" Sherlock practically dragged me outside, plucking something off of the table and hauled me over to 'Fletcher'.

"Sheesh, you don't have to drag me around everywhere I'm crazy not crippled, well I guess that could be the same thing couldn't it?" I snorted, I was such a light weight.

"Mind if we join you?" Sherlock chimed, trying to hush my insistent giggles. The guy with the unicorn horn for hair shrugged, welcoming us to sit at the table. He'd probably end up regretting it, after all Sherlock wasn't the friendliest and I wasn't the most…polite.

Sherlock launched into his questioning while I sipped the rest of my beer down and began to sift through the guide's belongings.

"Why would I tell you if I did—ack! Excuse me! That's private property!" Unicorn man ripped the bag out of my hand while I waggled my finger in his face.

"Not exactly, I don't see your name on it." I replied, rubbing my nose and looked around. It didn't seem like a place that'd harbor some oversized dog. The man glared between us and began to leave, excusing himself gruffly just as John was heading over.

"I called Henry -."

"Bet's off John, sorry."

* * *

I sighed, resisting the urge to grin. As usual Sherlock was always at least ten steps ahead. I peeked to the side, noting the word 'RACING' in big bold letters on the paper in Unicorn hair's pocket. So he was one of those people I thought.

"Wait, wait, what bet?" The guy asked, suddenly becoming interested in speaking to Sherlock.

"I bet 50 quid to John that you couldn't prove that the hound actually exsists." Sherlock said nonchalantly, already dismissing the man, which had been the point, he needed to draw him in and con him into whatever it was Sherlock was actually up to. It dawned on me then, how was I supposed to even be of any real use to Sherlock or John? It was bad enough I could barely distinguish the voices in my noggin from reality, how was I supposed to handle something that was physically there?

"No, don't be stupid. But I reckon there is something out there, something from Baskerville escaped." Unicorn man said, his face gravely serious.

"You know, that foot print had to be fake. He probably had it made for his tourist stints" I grumbled, flinging my body onto the squishy bed.

"Doesn't matter. I got what I needed to know." Sherlock replied, going through his bag. I was kinda surprised he didn't bring a refrigerated head or a jar of assorted fingers.

"You can't just waltz onto an Army base." I told him, lifting my brow, grunting as the detective's weight shifted the bed a little when he dropped himself next to me.

"No, but Mycroft can." He tossed Mycroft's I.D at me. "You knick your own brother?" Sherlock chuckled, plucking the card out of my hand.

"I prefer acquired." With a shrug I yawned. Today has been a long journey and the beer had made me drowsy. But there was something that I had been wanting to know for a while, something I hadn't been able to ask.

"Where's Jim now Sherlock? Of all the many people in the world why'd he come after me? I'm nothing special."

We watched each other for a while. I did expect him to know, he was Sherlock, he knew everything. Where I knew nothing. We were like Ying and Yang, balanced by our total opposite personalities and way of life.

"Because he wanted to exploit your vulnerability." Sherlock answered immediately, his voice without a hint of caution.

"Everyone is vulnerable-"

"Not like you Adele. Don't you understand yet? You are perfectly capable of destroying everything around you without even realizing it or remembering. You strive to have a perfectly normal life, and I'd wager that you won't question much where it comes from. Jim exploited this weakness and wanted to use it." I bit my lip and sat up. I wanted to be loved and accepted, I would do anything for it. I had even admitted to Sherlock once that I'd be willing to kill anyone who'd try to harm those close to me.

I closed my eyes, the problem was that Jim had already gotten to me. I'd kill anyone for him too, had done it once. Not to say I enjoyed it, but I would do it.

"Why did they put us in the same room if they think you and John are gay together?"

"Because they think we're siblings." Seriously? We looked nothing alike! I was more likely to be John's sister than I was to Sherlock. I guess it didn't matter, Sherlock and I had shared a bed before and the sofa pulled out anyway not that I planned to sleep there. Sofa beds always gave me knots in my back. kicking off my shoes I yawned heavily, grappling the duvet cover all around me, drifting into a deep sleep.

* * *

The very next day we drove off to the military base, once we pulled up that's when Sherlock decided to fill us in on the fact we'd only have twenty minutes inside the base. Neither John nor myself were too thrilled over it, me more so when I realized I had forgotten to take my meds that morning and didn't bring any with me. Our tension was high as we walked on the gravel path, my heart thumping in my chest loudly. 'Q' was bouncing all over the place, practically noming on my stress like it were candy or something.

As we were just about to get indoors a soldier practically flew out of his jeep, halting us in our tracks.

"What is it are we in trouble?" The young man demanded, his face frantic. I glanced away, noting the steaming pipes and gloomy brick buildings

"Sir." Sherlock corrected, jumping right into character. I was so glad I probably didn't matter much and could just hang back and let everyone else duke it out.

_His hat is shiny. Take his hat, eat the shiny._ – Q

_It's a beret. And I'm pretty sure we'd get kicked out if I did that._ –Adele

"Yes, sorry sir." The soldier said without a bit of apology in his voice. Maybe I would eat his shiny.

"You were expecting us?"

"Your I.D showed up straightaway . Corporal Lyons. Security. Is there something wrong sir?" corporal Lyons said once more. I guess he was just doing his job. Had to protect whatever it was the military was hiding and all that.

"I hope not corporal, I hope not."

"It's just we don't get inspected here. It just doesn't happen."

For petesake man! We got twenty minutes! Twenty! Pretty please let us snoop around! I shifted uncomfortably on my feet, feeling the water bubbling in my head.

"Ever heard of a spot check?" John snapped, flipping out his wallet, "Captain John Watson, fifth Northumberland Fusiliers." They did their soldierly salute and then as it was 'proper' to greet everyone of the group I hastily stammered out that I was assistant Rebecca Joyce. He seemed to buy it a little. If I'd felt like playing actress today I should not have forgotten my medication.

"Major Barrymore won't be pleased sir. He'll want to see you both."

"I'm afraid we won't have time for that. We'll need the full tour, right away. Carry on. That's an order corporal." And john liked to pretend he was a model citizen.

Once inside I had to practically run behind the two guys, mainly to keep pace with their longer strides. We ended up in a big crisp white room that reminded me of my solitary confinement at the psych ward. The luminescent lights blared painfully in my eyes, the angry monkey chattering next to me. In fact there were dogs, cats, birds, but primarily monkeys.

The Corporal explained they were doing all sorts of research from stem cell research to curing the common cold.

"What about chronic mental disorders?" I chirped, turning to watch the woman inject a monkey with some yellow substance that reminded me of pee.

"Everything is here, including mental disorders." I ignored the look Sherlock was giving me. Can't blame a schizo from dreaming could you? We ushered on and I found myself being really fascinated. These people had to be uber smart. I mean really really really smart. We reached another room where a woman stood and a monkey greeted us 'hail Hitler' style with a leash attached around his hip. I felt sorry for him, trapped in this crappy room when he should be happy in a jungle somewhere making babies and flinging poo.

" Stapelton?" Sherlock mused glancing at me. That name sounded oddly familiar to me but I shrugged, not really caring too much what the realization meant to Sherlock at the moment.

"Yes? Who's this?"

"Priority ultra ma'am, order's from on high. An inspection." Corporal Lyons said, motioning to us as we came over. The woman scoffed slightly and I decided I didn't exactly like her, and neither did 'Q'.

"Really?" Stapleton raised her brow, eyeing us over, doing a double take when she glanced at me. Most likely, under this light, my eyes were far more noticeable. About ten doctors gawked at me as I passed and I was ready to start hitting people. We're they trying to read my mind? We're they thinking of making me a test subject? What if Sherlock wasn't Sherlock or John wasn't actually John? What if they'd been replaced by aliens? And were going to trap me here? I realized I was in a horribly bad place. This place was extremely techy, very techy.

"What's your role at Baskerville?" Fake Mycroft Holmes asked seriously and very business like. It was kind of scary how well Sherlock could pretend.

_All the more reason to be cautious my sweet. Could not be Sherlock at all. –Q_

"I'm not free to say, official secrets." My head felt swollen slightly. White walls, white ceilings, white lights, white lies, this place felt very wrong to me.

"You most certainly are free to say and I suggest you remain that way." 'Mycroft' bit out nastily. Stapleton decided that she couldn't keep up with Mycroft's tango and figured if she wanted to keep her job she ought to do as he asked.

"I have a lot of fingers in a lot of pies. I like to mix things up, genes mostly." She pointed her pen to my face. I almost fell backwards.

"Were you born like that? Your eyes I mean." I nodded, mouth going dry. Doctors were always blunt, not caring if they hurt your feelings pointing out your obvious flaws.

"Yes."

"It's very acute. Very rare. Give a year or two, three at most and I could have it fixed. See what I mean?" I blinked at the possibility.

"You mean make it normal?"

"Precisely." Whatever I or she said pissed Sherlock off and he stepped in front of me, completely blocking my view. They bantered back and forth, and I paid no real attention to what was going on when Sherlock started to practically drag me around with him. The edges of my vision got blurry, smudged with inky blackness and I realized where I was edging towards an episode.

* * *

**Okay! I know it's cut short, which was why I said there would be a part 2. This chapter and the next are probably the hardest chapters I've had to write so far and I'm afraid of it being sloppy 0.0 I'm not 100 percent with this chapter so I'm gonna stop here and hope it's not too cruddy.**


	21. Chapter 21: The Hound Pt2

**Hello all! I got a lot of constructive criticism! Which is GREATLY appreciated and TAKEN very much to heart!I like knowing where I am messing things up as well lol. Writing is primarily my hobby that I most likely won't ever get serious with, however it is nice for me to try and get my writing as neat as possibleb****ecause the reviews I received were rather special (not to say any from the past were not, just that the range of reviews were diffrerent) these last ones really helped me to try and write this chapter better. **

**To YUNeLenna: ****Normally I would not cut off in the middle, but I did because it would have been very long and I find when I try cramming a bunch into one story I write sloppy out of frustration. And I do agree that there should be a intern POV of Adele's disorder. Something I have been struggling with. When I started the story I thought Sherlock/Moriarty would be hard to get into character, but I realized that I have videos to go back to on their account and Adele who is entirely made up. With the added fact that she is also Schizophrenic, a mental disorder that on it it's own is rare but also is rare to be recognized at a young age I have no idea what it is like in her mind even though she is my own character. SO like you, I feel and really want to be more in Adele's head rather than on the outside and think the 2****nd**** portion will be perfect for it! I will try to put more convo's with her voices and such as I realized I've been slacking on that part!**

**To Eleshey:**** I am very glad you are enjoying yourself reading! It's really humbling that out of so many stories out there this is your favorite! And I don't personally hold myself as an amazing person, you certainly made me feel very special indeed!**

**To Carlypso:**** Thanks a whole lot for pointing out the spelling error! I do my upmost best to correct everything before I submit any chapter, sometimes thought I tend to miss some because I cannot see the squiggly red lines, so when I go back I'm like what the heck! I missed so much! Haha any who I did go back and fix 'kepp'! **

**AkatsukiShizu3: Glad you are liking the plot so far! Hopefully I can keep delivering on entertainment! Thanks so much for reviewing!**

**Thank you also so much for fav/following!: bella cullen the original, Ninjatastic, &amp; AkatsukiShizu3! I love knowing that new people are reading and enjoying my story!**

**PS (IMPORTANT): I have decided to go with a Sherlock/OC. Because originally this was my intention but thought it'd be interesting to do a Sherlock/OC/Moriarty story. And I really did want to make it work with both characters, but my heart has always loved Sherlock. Personally I do not believe Moriarty is capable of loving on that level that Adele hopes for. He is a for-the-moment-kind-of-guy. So, from here on out it is a SHERLOCK/OC story but there will still be some things involving Moriarty okay?. Perhaps one day I will make an OC/Moriarty story. Now that I have settled my own demons I am hoping for a much easier transition through the story. This story will primarily have a HUGE turning point for the two and they will discover their truest and deepest feelings for each other. I also added a little something-something ^.~ nothing a whole lot but more than in the past.**

* * *

**Hound Pt 2**

I don't remember leaving the facility; but there we were, jostling down the long road with John driving and Sherlock pondering out the window. The hills sped fast behind us, becoming smudges of green.

"What happened?" I asked shifting uncomfortably out of the seats and leaned forward to peer alongside the weary men.

"Did I fall asleep or something?" Strange, since I don't remember waking up either.

"You were having a panic attack." John replied, glancing down at me. My brows raised slightly. The last time I had a panic attack was my very first time at the doctor's office. "Was I? When?" I raked my brains, shoving all the stupid stuff 'Q' thrusted my way.

"When they hit the alarm." Sherlock told me, sneaking a half amused look at me. Oh, right. The red blarring lights and the raised voices, and the tense-against-feng shui atmosphere. The major guy growling angrily at us like he were an oversized wolf. Then that nice guy in the lab coat came over and saved our asses. For a guy who ran experiments one who-cares-what, he certainly knew how to pull strings.

"Were you ever experimented on Adele?" John asked bringing me out of my hazy stupor, staring sternly at me. "I know it's a personal question and all, but-"I stopped him with a half-smile. Many facilities that treated the 'insane' or 'mentally ill' were very nice places, and both the doctors and nurses had always been kind to me, treating me with respect and listened to what I had to say like I were a normal human being. I won't say that the bad facilities didn't exist, because it was still possible they did. But, I just felt that it's not as likely as it would have been a century ago."

"No John. I was never 'experimented' on. They don't do that anymore since there's a much better understanding of mental health then there was centuries ago. Mental health is treated with a lot more compassion now than it ever was in the past. Although the 'horror' movies don't really help us much." John nodded, mouth slanted as though he doubted what I said.

"I have triggers, things that set me off, and like a defense mechanism I kind of go on auto pilot and hide in my little brain where it's safe. Where no one hurts me, understand? Once the ordeal is done, I don't really remember anything afterwards. Sometimes nothing at all."

John remained quiet, thinking my words over; leaving me to my own as well. Was it healthy to continuously forget? How much of my life have I missed out on and not have realized it?

_Forgetting is easier pet. Do you feel like mending everything you break? _–Q

I sat back and stared out at the rolling hills, doing my best to ignore 'Q'. I'd like to forget you, I told him somewhat angrily. But 'Q' had been with me for as long as I could remember and while he was an irritating thorn in my side, he was also all I'd ever known. What would my head be like if it were quiet? If the seas were calm? I suppose, I don't want it to by quiet because then I'd be alone.

"So, I thought we were doing the case for that guy?" I pressed, thinking back to the bits and pieces I could recall. "I didn't realize we were helping the little girl find her bunny."

"Initially we weren't." Sherlock said, "It was a coincidence." I smiled almost cruelly.

"So the Sherlock Holmes is a pet service now?" Sherlock glared at me, smacking me square on the nose.

"No, but if you don't sit back and behave I'll have you on a leash."

_Oh, we like leashes pet. Leashes are good and dandily handy! LEASHES FOR EVERYONE! I'll have the purple one if you don't mind… –Q_

I wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. 'Q' could be a freaky demented crazy. When I closed my lids on the inside and concentrated real hard on him, he was never there. Just his voice, but never a shape or any physical anything. It was extremely frustrating to me, it made me feel like he was everything and everywhere, watching me no matter what I did.

At least roach actually looked like a roach and Rachel looked like Rachel. But 'Q' was nothing but also everything.

"I said SHUT UP!" I slammed my feet against Sherlock's seat who threw his hands out to catch the dashboard.

"But, I didn't say anything." John replied, his face perplexed as he stared at me through the rearview mirror.

"I wasn't talking to you!" I snapped back, folding my arms and slumped down into the seat so that I was staring at the top of the jeep to pout.

"Just go with it John, after a high level stress situation she's bound to be a little moody." Sherlock said, brushing himself off with a cool look on his face.

"I'm not moody." I grumbled, rolling onto my side. I wasn't moody, was I?

_Of course you're moody! –Roach_

_Always confused, then happy, then angry, and then sad and then sorry! –Roach_

When we reached the inn I decided to take a nice warm shower and take my meds.

"Clozaril to keep the creepies away."

"Zoloft so I don't get the frownies."

"And Epitol! So I don't do the silly willies!"

With a slight frown I popped the pills in my mouth. mom's mantra just didn't sound right without Lithium. The bathroom was small but had a classic vintage feel to it with a deep soaking tub with clawed feet. The walls were done up in a pretty but simple light grey wall paper, making it seem contemporary as well. I felt like one of those gorgeous classic women from the twenties with strings of pearls around their necks, done up lashes batting their pretty eyes. Except I was none of those things. Short, thin and scrawny arms paler than probably normal with light tinges under my eyes from lack of sleep. I always thought of Irene, and thought how I couldn't be like her. Did Sherlock really prefer sophisticated women? Did he enjoy her haughty attitude and quick thinking?

As I stepped into the shower and let the hot water run over my body I still couldn't help but feel inadequate. Irene in my opinion, was flawlessly regal with her sculpted face and almond eyes of ice. I was a frumpy child in comparison. Maybe that is why I still held onto Jim. Because he saw me and only me. Even if in the end I ended up in the gutter some place far off. At least in my final moments I had nothing to compete with. I hated being who I was, sometimes I hoped that those who believed in reincarnation were correct and that in a next life I could have a second chance. Even now, with my medications I still felt the tugging in my brain, the shadows lurking about and the itchy intense nerves in my head that clank around like shackles. The water burned my skin but I remained unresponsive, the meds also washing over me, numbing my sensations a bit. This numbness in me dulled me in ways that were not good but made me realize how attuned I was to the world both inside and out. Chaos is my life, I cannot hope for it to change because it won't.

* * *

"Why do you want to change Adele?" The slow drawled out voice startled me, like any normal person would. grabbing the flimsy curtain I leered out, seeing Sherlock leaning against the sink, arms folded neatly across the chest as he stared at me, unfazed at my annoyed and embarrassed face.

"Do you mind? I'm trying to shower...plus I'm naked." Sherlock was unfazed. Was my body inferior to Adele's? "Answer my question." The detective demanded, brows knitted into neat, angry lines.

"I have no idea what you're talking about. Now get out." I snarled, snapping the flimsy plastic shut. It was quiet for a while, and I thought that maybe Sherlock went away, until he spoke clearly past the loud shower head.

"Back at the military center, you were excited. To know that you could erase who you are. Tell me why, why do you want to be that way Adele?" I was glowering. Heart burning with a fiery rage. What right did Sherlock have to question my want and need to be normal? What reason did he have to ask why? I thought of Cassie and Jeff. Both normal and average people with highly successful lives and adoring families, and here I was still believing in imaginary people that even though I knew were not real, still conversed with. I thought of 'Rachel', who I had inadvertently murdered and my family that I had beared down hard on with my very being. How could I not want anything else? How could I not want to be 'normal'? I thought again of Irene in all of her stupid fucking glory and then compared it to my loopy sloshy thoughts. What did I have that Irene didn't besides crazy?

"Isn't it obvious?" I spat bitterly, imagining Irene's perfect turquoise liner. "Look at me Sherlock. I'm a freak. I can't be 'normal' no matter how hard I try. Up until now I never had a real friend." It was a hard thing to face. On top of Rachel I had committed three other murders -Not including the guy at he pool, that I only got away with through connection. Had it not been for Sherlock or Mycroft I'd be locked away in prison or worse in a 'crazy house'. I was not Irene or Cassie or mom. There was nothing about me that was appealing. I would always be the 'psycho from Oregon'. My frustration from the past few weeks built up in that moment and I could feel the warm tears building up in me, spilling over my lids and pouring over my cheeks in rapid gushes.

"Look at me. I'm stupid fucking crazy. I can't be normal no matter how hard I try to fit in. I'm not like other Schizos who look normal because my eyes are freaking weird. Didn't you see all the doctors? They were staring at me like a science project. I just want to be normal Sherlock." It was quiet for a while and like Dad I thought Sherlock had no explanation, no words to help me. But there was a shifting sound, slow and uneasy. After a few moments Sherlock shoved the curtain back, standing before me in the nude like we were Adam and Eve. Except Eve wasn't damaged like I was. If God existed he was a cruel and heartless person. Sherlock's naked form didn't process right away as he stepped in. My feet stepped back against the slick porcelain surface, my back pressing against the cool pale pink tiles.

"Now why would you want to be normal?" Sherlock breathed, his hair dangling in his icy eyes as he stood underneath the tap. I opened my mouth to speak, but shied away. Too embarrassed to speak. So I did my best to remain composed and focused on not falling over. The shadows in the corner of my eyes whisped around us but were more subdued under my medication.

"I'm naked." I murmured, trying to look at anything and everything but Sherlock. I felt like I'd be molesting him if I looked at him in any kind of way, whether it were up...or down. But I especially avoided looking down.

"And I feel like a monster." I told him, honestly for once. For the first time I revealed to myself how I actually felt. Sherlock remained firm, jaw-lin smooth and unmoved while his eyes analyzed every part of me. Despite being naked I felt even more naked as I revealed this to him because it wasn't something I was accustomed to knowing.

"You're perfect the way you are." Sherlock purred, leaning close, his narrow nose caressing my own. "Are you drunk?" I asked somewhat sarcastically, trying to move away. Our bodies separated by a thin strip of atom like space. Sherlock chuckled a little, blue-green eyes flashing haughtily. He was a man version of Irene, perfect and flawless. Many nights I spent watching him tap away at his evil computer I wished to touch him, but we were separated by this wall I unwillingly created. Metal walls were hard to break down and overcome. Mainly because I didn't understand what I felt for Sherlock, because I'd never had the opportunity.

I realized how much I hated being ME. I hated my crazy, I despised my inability to 'get with the program'. So many times my mother had told me I was being immature and that I needed to get a hold of myself. Truth is, I can't. I hated to admit it; but it's true. I will probably always see the lurking shadows and hear the hushed voices. Sherlock wouldn't want or need someone like me.

"I'm afraid Sherlock." I told him honestly allowing my meds to take me on auto pilot. "Of what?" Sherlock's mouth slanted, he believed there was someone out to hurt me and would be determined to stop those people dead in their tracks.

"What I felt for Jim...it was real. And he hurt me and betrayed me. How do I know you won't do the same?" My words startled him, catching the usually guarded detective in his side. It wasn't something he expected me to say. We stood there in silence, lukewarm water splashing us in the faces. Eventually it was Sherlock who made the first move, his palm resting against my face.

"Because you do things to me that I have yet to understand and may never understand." He whispered, gently drawing my closer. My heart thudded rapidly in my chest. Both from his words but primarily because the gap between us had closed. I hoped the shower somewhat covered up the crimson blush that had heated my cheeks and ears. I wanted to reply with something witty like those heroines in the romance novels did.

"And...what do I do to you?" I mused slowly, it was an awkward moment but I wasn't a saint or wanted to be. What I wanted was this moment to play out a little longer. Who knew how many more I'd get? Sherlock ghosted a smile for me, planting his lips across mine, not asking for permission to slide his tongue alongside mine. He was surprisingly sweet but commanding at the same time. My head felt fuzzy, like I was laying in a patch of furry bunnies or something. Intertwined my fingers behind the detective's neck, lacing them together to draw him in, enjoying his finger's in my hair. It was an amazing kiss, opting to speak for many things left unsaid. A soft noise escaped me, gasping for a apt breath of air before submerging into another round of tongue stroking. Sherlock's grip was tight, like I'd disintegrate right before his very eyes and he was desperate to keep me here as long as he could.

And in all the heat and fire where something was bound to inevitably happen it was severed by one simple word: "Sherlock?" We moved apart, breathing heavily. John was in the main room, calling for Sherlock who looked between furious and annoyed. I giggled a little, it was a priceless look on his face.

"We do have some things to attend to." I murmured to him softly, hiding my smile by biting the inside of my face. Like a grumpy child Sherlock sauntered out of the shower, sulking his way out and leaving me to try and properly collect myself.

* * *

We arrived at a rather charming house. One portion of the house had a very old, perhaps Victorian feel to it. The sunroom was neglected entirely, becoming more of an outdoor garden, lush with trees and sunlight while leading us to the main door I noticed there was a more modern section of the house. Despite it's odd construction it was a charming home with clearly a lot of character. Sherlock rang the bell once, and after a moment of waiting the door pulled open by Henry Knight.

"Hi. Come in, come in." The three of us moved in, revealling that the inside was decorated in an antique like fashion. I wondered if all of this stuff was accumulated from past family or if Henry enjoyed antiquing.

"This is um, are you...rich?" John was always straight to the point. Most wouldn't bluntly ask if one was extremely well of in finances.

"Your house is lovely." I smiled looking around at the home's beauty. "Oh, thank you." Herny replied, he was kind of a jittery guy. More so than me, and that was seriously saying something. He led us into the kitchen where we were served tea, myself opting for the bitter drink of coffee. I roamed to the side, letting the men do their chit chat. I felt something strange here.

"It's what I keep seeing, Liberty." Henry looked like he hadn't slept in ages, poor guy. "Liberty?" John asked, scribbling it down on a piece of paper.

I moved to the wide open windows staring out into the miniature courtyard.

"Liberty and...in." Liberty and in? I thought looking over at him.  
"Are you seeing the words or thinking them?" I asked, staring at Henry. The man pondered for a moment, as he collected his thoughts. "Seeing." He replied curiously.

"Like hallucinating?" Henry frowned at me, "I'm not hallucinating. I'm not on drugs or anything." I shrugged, an argument with a distraught person was not worth my time or something I was particularly interested in. 

"Liberty in death, isn't that the expression?" Sherlock murmured to John. "The only true freedom." I raised my brows, was that actually an expression? There was possibly nothing after death, maybe even your mind ceased to exist the moment your body stopped functioning. How is no longer existing being the ultimate freedom? Sounded like crap to me. But then again if you were a religious person and firmly believed in the after-life then perhaps there was freedom.

Henry sighed nervously, moving his hands back and forth as he watched the detective and John. "What now then?" John motioned to Sherlock.

"Sherlock's got a plan?" Sherlock smiled his half-good natured smile when he was deciding to be somewhat pleasant. Henry looked absolutely hopeful, and personally I didn't blame him. Years of his life spent wasting over a possible ravenous dog that was seemingly out to get him at every chance it got.

"We take you back out onto to the Moor and see if anything attacks you." My face scrunched up. "You're going to use him as bait?" Sounded like something Moriarty would do.

"That will bring things to a head."

"At night...you want me to go out there at night? I looked at Henry who was as white as snow. "Look Sherlock's an ass, but don't let him fool you into thinking this is the only way. Using him as bait...that's absolutely ridiculous! What if something does attack him?" I rounded on Sherlock, hands on my hip. In turn he rolled his eyes at me.

"That's your plan?" John snapped, looking on in disbelief.

"Uh-huh." Why was he so nonchalant about using another human being as bait? Was he that sure that there was nothing out there? John scoffed, shaking his head.

"Do you have any better ideas?" Sherlock snapped, glaring between the two of us. "If there is a monster out there, there's only one thing to do; find out where it lives."

When we offered no other explanation, Henry reluctantly agreed and the four of us were off to the Moor to hunt down this elusive beast. I shoved my fists into my jacket as we drove down the road. The days events having worn me down a little. By my sneakers little glimpses of shadows danced around my toes like goblins. No matter how many times I blinked they wouldn't go away.

"Are you alright?" Henry asked staring at me in a concerned manner. "Huh? Oh, yeah." I pressed a thin smile to my mouth. "I guess I'm just a little nervous is all." Despite being in his own fear Henry chuckled a bit, his pale face and bruised under eye trying to bring some humor to the table.

"I suppose if anything does attack us, I'll be there to protect you." Almost instantly I could feel Sherlock's cold eyes on us, burning us with his prodding looks. I did my best to ignore that and thanked Henry, turning my full attention to the speeding scenery.

* * *

When we got to the Moor the sun was just about to set, turning the sky into hues of pink and orange. We were walking on foot, flashlight in hand with Henry leading the way and me clumsily stumbling after the group. If it weren't for John helping me along the way I'd have fallen on my face several times. None of us spoke, only trekked on through the hilly terrain. The sun slowly dissipating as the night slowly gained control. At this point I was firmly latched onto Sherlock's arm, flashing my light in all directions I saw a movement of a shadow, my foot constantly snagging against stone and foilage.

"How much longer, till we reach the Moor?" I breathed, fingers squeezing bruises into the detective's arm.

"We're just about to head into it." Henry replied, flashing his light as we all descended into a dip that led into a heavily treed forest. "I think this was a bad idea." I told Sherlock, flinching from the thrashing of a wild animal. I did not like things I could only hear and not see. It made me feel unsafe and in danger.

"It'll be fine." Sherlock said, keen eyes dead ahead of us, making sure we didn't loose sight of Henry, yet we failed to notice John falling behind us. The deeper we got into this eerie place the more unwelcoming it became, signs erected up from the ground told us to go back and that possible danger looked in front of us. My skin crawled with itchy bugs, and I realized the only thing keeping me from running off like a scared chicken was Sherlock's iron grip.

_What waits inside Addy? What waits to eat you? Will we go in? Yes we will. So that when the dog grabs you I'll finish you and the other two off -_Q

_Go back, it's not safe. Something bad is here._ -Roach

Swallowing my fear I held fast to Sherlock, clinging to him like a child clings to their mother at the grocery store. A ghostly mist was filling in around us, kind of corralling us in a specific direction. I wasn't listening to what Sherlock was saying to Henry, only bits and pieces about Dr. Frankland and about his concern. I thought it strange that Sherlock would bring that up now of all times when something could leap out and possibly kill us.

_Think happy thoughts. Happy, happy, happy thoughts. -_Adele

"Well a mate's a mate. After all look at you and John." Henry glanced back at us and I could feel Sherlock becoming rigid. Why was he so guarded over what people knew about? More specifically his personal relationships?

"What about us?" Sherlock clipped, I could imagine his serious gaze now, practically ready to stab you with questions.

"Well, I mean he's a pretty straight forward bloke, and you...well they agreed to never talk about work Uncle Bob and my dad." I stared at him for a moment, looking on in wonder. I wanted to ask him about 'Uncle Bob' but he had already turned his attention elsewhere, bobbing his head toward a foggy crevice wedge.

"Dewars Hollow." My stomach turned upright and I subconsciously backed up, afraid of getting to close to the ridged doom place. In my brain I felt the clawing and gnawing, scratching and tearing to get out.

"Right then, lets go." Without waiting for my reply Sherlock tugged me along, leading me down the leafy slopes. I felt like something was watching us, stalking us from the shadows, leering at possibilities to pick us off one by one. Henry's jagged breathing only heightened my anxiety, while 'Q's excessive ill intent only made me feel even more insecure. My vision was becoming hazy, and I thought that at first the fog was getting thicker.

"Is it getting foggier?" I clipped, glancing around only to find that I was alone. "Sherlock? Henry?...John?"

_All alone in this dark scary place, let's...play. -Q _

My skin lurched like a tiny million worms were wiggling under my skin, crawling up my neck and into my brain. I clawed at them, trying to free myself from their parasite babies. My feet stumbled, I felt like I was just floating on the ground, twirling around to try and find someone to help me.

_Run, run, run as fast as you can. You can't outrun me because I'm in your head! -Q_

I leaped over a small ledge, landing softly on the ground, I realized I was bleeding, tips of my fingers tinged with cooper smelling red. I clamored up, fell down, then stumbled forward a few feet, rolling across the ground, but the more bugs I got off the more that came back on. Steadying myself up I heard a small noise, more like a soft but gruff grumble and turned to meet the noise only to face a stalking shadow on four brawny limbs, claws grazing in the darkness as whatever it was shifted towards me.

With a harsh yelp, I sprang forward, clamouring over sharp rocks and sticks, crying out for someone to help me. The hulking beast thing was behind me, I could feel his horrible presence on me.

"Sherlock! John!" I screamed, the floor underneath me gave way into blackness and I fell in, my foot snagged in the monster's mouth as I hurled into a terrifying death roll. My hands were burning though I felt cool heavy water underneath me. My ankle burned but the beast was gone and I gurgled on the acrid smelling water, the worms were in here to and I slapped at my skin, crying as I ripped at every part of my body. My mind was racing, one minute Sherlock was here and then he was gone. I wondered if he was taken, if John and Henry were taken and if I were alone in this forest with no means of escaping.

Thrashing around I managed to get out of the thick water, clothes plastered achingly to my bruised ribs as I hurled my body over a thick log, slowly my senses returned and I was lying in a bed of dead leaves. I could see a light bouncing at me and I moved, just slightly, trying to get away.

* * *

**John Watson**

His breathing had stabled somewhat and as he wandered out of the area, having hoped to get away from the howling monster he saw Adele sprawled on the floor, chest heaving rapidly as she struggled to regain her senses. When he approached her he realized that the back of her neck was tore slightly, scratched past the skin membrane, her hands were cut up as well from the rocks and sharp twigs. Adele's pant leg had been torn slightly, revealing a twisted ankle.

"Are you alright?" John lifted the girl up in his arms as best he could, but her body was stiff and shaking "What happened? Adele! Where's Sherlock? What happened?" She only offered a whimper in response, turning her head away to shake off whatever had traumatized her. At that time Sherlock and Henry came stomping through,

"We saw it! We saw it!" Henry proclaimed, fumbling forward, looking as shaken as John still felt.

"No, I didn't see anything." Sherlock muttered, ushering forward without pause.

"What are you talking about?!" Henry demanded, for once someone else besides him experienced what he had experienced long ago, and now that person was denying everything.

"I didn't see anything." Sherlock snapped again in a too-even-tone.

John shifted Adele in his arms, carrying her off behind the others. Making sure he kept his pace this time to not get separated from the group.

* * *

**Adele Banks**

I remained in the jeep, while John escorted Henry back into his house. He'd wrapped my ankle in tight binding to help alleviate the pain. Sherlock had been denying the whole ride back that he had never seen anything and poor Henry was left even more shaken than ever before. Meanwhile I had remained silent. Offering no excuse or explanation to help Henry either. I was still trying to figure out what happened. I had thought the creature had grabbed my leg with it's mouth, but when I saw my ankle it was only swollen, no bruising or bitemarks. But I had legitimately believed something had been there. I wasn't like my own hallucinations, it had been far too intense for it to not be real, yet I had heard it, seen it, and even felt it. And somehow in the end still had no proof. There was also the question as how it was that I got so far from my group. Ending up closer to our starter point than anyone else at first. I simply don't remember being dragged that far.

"What happened Sherlock?" I asked, but he never answered me. In fact I might as well have not spoken. We drove back to the Inn as soon as John got back. It was a long, quiet, and uncomfortable ride. So I was happy to have cup of chocolate in front of the fire.

"Well he is in a pretty bad way. Totally manic, totally convinced there is some mutant super dog roaming the Moors. And there isn't though, is there? If people knew how to make mutant super dog, we'd know." John said as he sat down with us. Sherlock was thinking his rapid thoughts, still having remained silent through all this time. Whether he did or didn't see the mutant dog something happened, something that rocked Sherlock to his core.

"They'd be for sale. I mean that's how it works." John added, looking sure of himself. "Listen, on the moor I saw someone signaling morse, um, I guess it's morse. It doesn't make much sense. U-M-Q-R-A. Does that mean anything?" Sherlock was entirely not paying attention, the more John spoke the more he wasted his breath. Since I had no idea what a morse code even was I was left entirely out of the conversation. Not that I minded much, I was still collecting myself from the earlier and terrifying events.

"We all heard something." John mused, I wanted to add that I indeed did see something, that it attacked me but funny thing was I couldn't make out the actual vision. I thought there had been claws but that could easily have been twigs and leaves. Maybe I just hallucinated so badly I believe there'd been something. The more I thought about the more I doubted I saw anything.

"Henry's right. I saw it." Sherlock's voice caught me by surprise and I turned to look at him.

"What?"

"A hound out there in the Hollow." Sherlock was blinking rapidly, obviously frightened. "A gigantic hound!" He spat fearfully.

"Look Sherlock, we have to be rational about this. Okay?" John shifted in his seat, "Now you, of all people can't just...lets just stick to what we know." What did we know? Nothing. We knew absolutely nothing. If anything even less than what we originally had before.

"Look at me, I'm afraid John. Afraid." Sherlock scoffed. I wanted to touch his hand, to let him know it was going to be okay. I reached out from under the blanket, letting my hand rest on top of his, my bandaged fingers attempting to calm Sherlock's shaken nerves.

"Always been able to keep myself distant. Divorce myself from feelings. You see? Body's betraying me. Interesting, yes?" Sherlock all but snarled, "Emotions." He sounded disgusted with himself and looked at us as if we were insects. He ripped his hand from mine, eyes frantic and angry. "Grit on the lense. A fly in the ointment." Fly in the ointment? What did that even mean?

"Yeah alright Spock, just take it easy. You've been pretty weird lately." John said, my head felt terribly dizzy but I found some comfort there inside my head with just my voices and shadows. "I think you got out there and got yourself a bit worked up."

"Worked up?" Sherlock scoffed. I sensed a Sherlock tantrum coming on and moved instinctively away, as best I could anyway.

"It was dark and scary. John offered.

"Me? There is nothing wrong with me!" Sherlock covered his face, hands shaking and it looked so unnatural.

"Everything will be okay." I attempted, putting my hand on his forearm. This actually offered no comfort at all to the detective and only roused his anger even more. "There is nothing wrong with me! Do you understand!?" He blurted, slapping my hand painfully away from him, glaring at me meanly as if wished our heads to explode.

"You want me to prove it? Yes?" He went on to explain about the widowed woman and her unemployed son who was hoping to mooch off of her. He pointed out that her dog, whisky was a terrier. And that he learned all this from observing I quote: "I use my senses John, unlike some people. So you see I'm fine in fact, getting better! . .alone."

"Yeah. Okay...okay. Why would you listen to me?" John cleared his throat, masking the slight hurt Sherlock caused him. "I don't have any friends." Those words stung a bit and I wondered if he really felt this way.

"How can you say that?" I snapped, "Of course we're your friends!" Sherlock glared at me, grinding his teeth. "You are not! What else did your imaginary fairies tell you?" His mean and hurtful words startled me he'd never made jibes at my hallucinations before, not even when were at each other's throats.

"I don't have fairies Sherlock." I spat with as much equal vicious spite as I could muster. "But if I did they wouldn't be as much of a pompous dick as you are." I shakily got to my feet, hoping out of the lodge, determined to not need help of any kind and at some point made it back to my room.

* * *

I decided that I would not be staying and grabbed my bag and called for a cab to take me to the station. While scrawling a note and cramming it under John's door. Once I got to London I'd make sure me and my imaginary 'fairies' were out of Sherlock's hair so he could remarry his emotionless life with no friends. If the hound was real perhaps it'd devour Sherlock.

_It's just you and us pet. How it's always been. -Q_

_I know. -Adele_

When I got to the station it was empty, except for the woman sitting alone on the far end of the tracks. Now that my nerves were more subdued I managed to hobble over into a bench, slumping down and waited. The train wasn't supposed to be here until another hour so I had some time to kill.

"Need a ride?" A man in black sat next to me, nearly making me do a doubletake. His black trench coat flapped around his Westwood suit, a trademark for none other than Jim Moriarty.

"Hiii!" He sang in his crazy sing-songy voice.

"I'm not really in the mood." I mumbled, looking away. "Oh, don't be that way. I only came to ask if you needed a ride." Jim chortled, putting his fists in his pocket.

"Why are you following me?"

"Because you interest me."

"Well I don't want to interest you or anyone."

"Then you should have stayed in America." I suppose there was truth in that. If I had stayed home I'd never have met Jim, or Sherlock. And since I was a nobody to Sherlock I guess it really didn't matter.

"Home is where the heart is I guess." I replied somewhat slowly. "And where is home?" Jim hummed light heartedly.

"Doesn't exist yet. If you give me a ride. You're buying me dinner." The mastermind chuckled, pointing out that it was I who should be returning a favor.

"Yeah but I'm providing you with endless 'entertainment' so to speak."

Jim helped me to his black car, clucking over my injured ankle as we shuffled in. As we began to pull away I bade my farewell to the little town and its creepy forest.

* * *

**DEAR READER(s), **_~I know this is long PLZ bear with me!_

_FIRST AND FOREMOST: I chose not to have Adele in the part where they infiltrate the lab simply because I did not want to continue on with this area as there's still another big area (Reichenbach Fall) that I want to fill plus I think for that part, three is kinda a crowd. And while I'm actually going to have another filler piece before the fall I do want to get things on a move on. _

**Okay, this past chapter I had to brainstorm A LOT. I really wanted this chapter to make an impression because of the wonderful criticism I got. I did a lot of research concerning Adele's mental disorder, and I realized that her case is really special. Because it's rare to have Schizophrenia and even more to be diagnosed at a young age. I could only find one person (Jani Schofield) with an acute form of Schizophrenia since birth though her parents did not know it until later on. Jani is still very young and not at all matured yet; so who knows what she'll be like as an adult? Many people with the disease don't find out until later on in life that they suffer from this disease and for the most part have lived entirely happy and peaceful lives with people they love; but before their so called 'brake' (realizing something is genuinely wrong), they deny there is anything wrong with them or don't even suspect it. Often believing that everyone is against them and trying to hurt them. Adele is totally foreign to me despite being someone created from my own mind. I know so little about her and it _bothers _me. She's known for nearly her who life that she suffers from Schizophrenia but unlike Jani does not constantly fall into relapse. Likewise she is entirely different from those who suffer subtly, her meds don't entirely hide or nurture her symptoms (she still hallucinates). **

*****When I watched the story of Jani Schofield at some point she admitted she did not like being Schizophrenic(she was interviewed by both and Oprah along with having a few separate videos on youtube. I encourage you to look into them but please keep in mind that Jani is a special case). Essentially this is who she is, and though it could not be helped or avoided it was heartbreaking for me to hear that a young child no where near her 'tweens' admitting she did not like it. This bit broke me in a way but also inspired me to make Adele unaccepting of who she is, thus making her compare herself to other, more stable people (i.e. Irene Adler)**

**I want to know her, but the truth is, all of my research left me with more questions than answers. One man described his disability that he could see his hallucinations, they were both real to him and disturbing. Only ONE case of all that I have looked into so far had caused a death of a relative (his mother). All this looking into and reading made me realize how little I knew of Schizophrenia and brought to light how much these people suffer and are in fear. Yet on the other hand there were those who could live out normal and happy lives. There was another man who had planned to commit suicide as he suffered from his condition, and a stranger happened by and coaxed him from doing this, SAVING his life to which the Schizophrenia sufferer went on a journey o find the person responsible for saving his life. When I watched the video the man looked entirely NORMAL. You could not even guess he had Schizophrenia. All of this made me take a step back and made me wonder who is Adele Banks? Schizophrenia is such an erratic and abnormal disease that my own OC is a STRANGER! When I made this discovery I felt really discouraged and upset that my own character was hard to figure out. And on several occasions I just wanted to give up. Especially for these chapters. But I kept and keep going for all of you wonderful readers. I'd have given up a long time ago. Many of my stories are random, spur of the moment speculations(daydreams). Many stories I have conjured up have NEVER been published or voiced. And in all honesty if it were not for you reader, I WOULD have stopped. I want you to know that I keep going and writing because of you. NOBODY in my personal life reads my stories or appreciates them like you do. Your love and admirations REALLY REALLY REALLY ARE HEARTFELT. I hope you don't think that I say this as 'just another author's way of getting more feedback' because even though we are utter strangers I wish I could show you in person how much it means to me.** **I really hope that you can be patient with me. I want to live up to the hope you've given me and also meet the expectations you seem to hold me worthy of. **


	22. AUTTHOR'S NOTE

**Author's Note**

Hello everyone! First thing's first, I would like to give out many excessively overdue apologies and so many more thank yous! The amount of feedback I went over truly made me happy and touched. I never really thought that my writing could capture anyone's enjoyment but my own. So to say that I was moved is an understatement. Even more so with the added favorites and follows.

It has been a long time since the last chapter of my Sherlock story and I can honestly say my long absence was entirely unintentional. I won't make excuses or try to get people to understand and I will be bluntly honest. I hit a major writer's block that fueled a lack of motivation to write ANYTHING. I thought maybe I had gotten bored with Plain, Simple, and Everything But. And I thought that maybe I needed a tiny break and attempted another project to rekindle the fire I had. Except I found that I could literally write nothing. After some time I convinced myself I was being lazy and attempted to force myself to write something. . . . I sat in front of my computer for two hours and I had barely written a paragraph. And it was a sloppily written paragraph at that. Even my husband (who is easily entertained and pleased) called me out on it. I have very few hobbies (writing being my most passionate one). When I found I was not able to do it anymore I was devastated.

But I am happy to say that I may have gotten my mojo back! I woke up this morning and realized a fantastic way to continue this story! I felt absolutely horrible leaving you guys hanging, especially with all the eager love you sent my way. This time around though I won't make any set promises on when I update, this way I won't be pressuring myself to write. Which I am hoping lessens the sporadic nature I've taken on. I absolutely loathe to leave a story unfinished. I wish my thank you could be more personal to you all because you deserve it (seriously, I mean it) but there are SO MANY of you! And I would like to get on with the task at hand before I forget -.-

AGAIN SO MUCH THANK YOU AND LOVE ON MY PART! I HOPE THESE NEXT CHAPTERS APPEASE YOU! ONWARD TO LE STORY!

-SpaceCake23


	23. Chapter 22: O Death

_Thoughts will be written as italics_.

**Flashback will be written in bold.**

_**Italic Bold is a change in POV and will be the character's name**_

****DISCLAIMER**** **The Sherlock BBC series and characters belong to their respective places, I do not claim to own any of the original characters or story. This is a story purely written for fun. However, Adele and any other character as well as plot that I added in are my very own. **

* * *

_**RECAP (SINCE ITS BEEN SO LONG): **_

I decided that I would not be staying and grabbed my bag and called for a cab to take me to the station. While scrawling a note and cramming it under John's door. Once I got to London I'd make sure me and my imaginary 'fairies' were out of Sherlock's hair so he could remarry his emotionless life with no friends. If the hound was real perhaps it'd devour Sherlock.

_It's just you and us pet. How it's always been. -Q_

_I know. -Adele_

When I got to the station it was empty, except for the woman sitting alone on the far end of the tracks. Now that my nerves were more subdued I managed to hobble over into a bench, slumping down and waited. The train wasn't supposed to be here until another hour so I had some time to kill.

"Need a ride?" A man in black sat next to me, nearly making me do a double take. His black trench coat flapped around his Westwood suit, a trademark for none other than Jim Moriarty.

"Hiii!" He sang in his crazy sing-songy voice.

"I'm not really in the mood." I mumbled, looking away. "Oh, don't be that way. I only came to ask if you needed a ride." Jim chortled, putting his fists in his pocket.

"Why are you following me?"

"Because you interest me."

"Well I don't want to interest you or anyone."

"Then you should have stayed in America." I suppose there was truth in that. If I had stayed home I'd never have met Jim, or Sherlock. And since I was a nobody to Sherlock I guess it really didn't matter.

"Home is where the heart is I guess." I replied somewhat slowly. "And where is home?" Jim hummed light heartedly.

"Doesn't exist yet. If you give me a ride. You're buying me dinner." The mastermind chuckled, pointing out that it was I who should be returning a favor.

"Yeah but I'm providing you with endless 'entertainment' so to speak."

Jim helped me to his black car, clucking over my injured ankle as we shuffled in. As we began to pull away I bade my farewell to the little town and its creepy forest.

* * *

**O Death.**

_**Sherlock Holmes**_

**His heart was still pounding in his chest, he despised what the Hollow had done to him. The vulnerability he had felt alone made him sick. However even he had felt his words were cold and harsh towards Adele. Yet, his pride refused to allow him to stop her from limping out of the Inn. Had he known that it would be the last time he would see her, he would have. **

Sherlock opened his eyes slowly, greeted by silence and his empty flat. Three weeks had passed since the Moors case was solved. A bittersweet victory though, since it had also been three weeks since Adele was last seen or heard from. A woman at the station claimed she had indeed seen the small framed girl but could not provide as to where she had gone.

"**Ja! She vanished! Like a ghost!" The German woman waved her hands frantically, fat fingers slightly red from having too many small rings shoved onto them.**

Sherlock's brow furrowed while he pressed the tips of his fingers to his lips, even now he wished to slap that woman for even comparing Adele's disappearance to that of a paranormal entity.

"Nobody just vanishes." Sherlock grumbled angrily, sharply sitting up and simultaneously paced the floor. Below in Adele's flat were the movers, noisily fumbling about as they packed all of her things that were being shipped back to America. Her parents were convinced that Adele had met an untimely fate despite Sherlock's intense efforts to prove them otherwise. John was utterly beside himself who had also accepted Adele's death and was grieving her immensely.

"**She was like my SISTER Sherlock!" John howled, eyes flashing with brief anger. **Funny, Sherlock had thought numbly, not realizing he had stopped his pacing entirely. The former medic soldier had rarely lost his cool on anything. "**She was my FRIEND! And I LET HER DOWN! When she needed me…I let her down." John mumbled weakly. He grabbed at his face, swiping at his eyes to force back the anger her felt. Whatever awful fate had befallen Adele he did not want to think of it. **Sherlock was staring out the window, watching John below who was coordinating the movers sternly. He was determined, Sherlock guessed, to make sure that none of Adele's things were ruined over the long voyage. But it was much more than that. John was collecting mass amounts of work to do to push the emotions he felt deep inside. **"But what would you care Sherlock? Maybe those fairies just drove her off a bridge..." **

"She's not DEAD!" Sherlock screamed, grabbing the nearest object and tossing it across the room in heated anger. The shatter of glass and ceramic satisfied him, prompting the detective to grab anything in his reach and wreck it. Sherlock overturned the table, shattered the lamp, broke the tea set, and uprooted books from their dusty shelves, venting the frustrating uncertainty of Adele's fate. When all was said and done Sherlock was left uncomfortably empty. Raking his hands through his curly brown hair Sherlock frowned at the mess he made, feeling once more unsatisfied.

Maybe what killed him most was that earlier that day, that last unbearable day, Sherlock remembered the hope, acceptance, and peace Adele had ogled him with in the shower. Her odd colored eyes sparkled unblinkingly at him, pink lips parted as if she dreamed to speak but could not. The fact that he had unlocked a part of Adele that nobody else had, thrilled him beyond anything he had ever experienced. Sherlock desired nothing more than to remain with her under the hot water. He would imagine to himself in the quietest hours of the flat many different scenarios as to how he'd like that moment to continue on. But always the passions of their hearts were halted with the cool and unforgiving look she'd slid his way. The only look that had made him feel sorry. It was the look that she gave everyone else, that he saw her as a freak. And nothing broke her harder than having to accept that wherever she went.

The detective shook himself free of the dark memory and went on staring out the window, aware that John was in the kitchen. The two barely spoke, John content to ignore his flatmate for now.

"I know she's not dead." Sherlock said finally. John paused at the sink, sighing wearily up at the ceiling.

"I don't want to believe it either. With no body, no clue, no anything. It just can't be true. But Sherlock what else is there?" It was the first civil exchange in weeks and the 221B felt a little less hostile. "All we have is a grave with Adele's name on it."

"An empty grave." Sherlock offered. Until he saw physical proof of Adele's death would Sherlock ever accept it. Even thirty years from now he'd still be searching for the bi color eyed woman.

"I won't give up and if she was as much of your sister as you say she was then you won't either." John eventually nodded, halfheartedly, but nonetheless agreed to continue the search for his missing friend.

221B Baker Street had not felt so alive since Adele's disappearance. Lestrade had been reluctant to keep the search going but agreed, even if it wasn't part of his division to do so. Mrs. Hudson thoroughly pleased that Sherlock and John were on speaking terms again.

"It was just awful! Having these two around! They were like their own clouds of rain!" The older woman proclaimed in a cheery voice, pouring the piping hot tea.

"Hm. I wouldn't say that." John spoke into his cup, avoiding looking at anyone. Indeed, the continued search did give him hope, which ignited a happiness that had evaded him for some time now.

"You were the worst!" Mrs. Hudson chuckled, "Moping about like you'd eaten a ton of frownie brownies!" John pursed his lips, sipping his tea silently. _Is it a crime to grieve now? _He thought humorlessly. Sherlock sat in his usual place in his usual silence but feeling very pleased and positive. They would find her; he knew this much. And when they did Sherlock would make it a point to somehow make it up to Adele.

The group chatted late into the night, going over a plan of action as to how to tackle the big search ahead of them.

* * *

_**Molly Hooper**_

Her stomach twisted in knots several times, making her feel very unwell. Working with dead bodies all day long, young and old, it hardly affected her anymore. Yet today she was all out of sorts and pondered on a vacation.

"I need to know Molly," The stern voice of Mycroft snapped over the phone, "Are you _absolutely _sure?" Molly held her phone loosely against the face staring down at the paper work that had come back from the labs, some of them being duplicates.

"I am sure. We've run three tests and all have come back the same." Molly padded softly across the cold but brightly lit room to a steel table with a covered body on top. She peeled back the thin sheet and balked. "It's definitely Adele." There was a heavy silence on the other line but Molly waited knowing by now that Mycroft was as cool and calculating as Sherlock was, if not more so.

"Very well. I will let him know." Mycroft did not wait for a response from Molly's end and hung up. Molly let out a huge sigh of anxiety and felt an immense amount of sadness. Though she had not known Adele well, she had gotten on along well with her. She couldn't imagine why anyone would do that to her.

"I am so sorry." She sniffed, "I hope that whoever did this will be found." She quickly replaced the sheet, no longer wanting to see the bruised face and marred body. The reports were no better. From the several stabbings, blunt trauma to the head and body, finger nails had been pulled out while some hair had been yanked painfully out. Molly felt utterly awful inside. Nobody deserved this fate, but especially not someone like Adele. Molly figured however, that somebody like Adele would be easily over powered and manipulated, especially without medications. Many feared that those of mental impairment were a danger to others, but that was just not true, they were more likely to be victims of abuse.

* * *

_**Sherlock Holmes**_

Many had gathered in the morgue. Namely Adele's parents, siblings, Lestrade, Molly, John, and Sherlock himself. John stood stiff and unsettled to Sherlock's right, fists balled tightly in his pockets. Sherlock knew that John had been wishing to not find Adele's body at all if accepting her death is what it meant. Adele's mother was holding onto her husband for support, nodding for Molly to pull back the sheet. Molly swallowed hard and peeled the crisp fabric back, revealing matted black hair, right eye laceration, broken jaw that had been sewn back in place.

"Oh…" Adele's mother let out a noise of remorse from her throat, reaching for the girl.

"Pull the sheet all the way off." Sherlock demanded, not fazed.

"Is that necessary?!" Adele's father snapped. "Yes, to be absolutely sure it is." Sherlock fired back, an unfamiliar feeling bubbling in his chest. Eventually Sherlock persuaded the Banks to allow him to glimpse 'Adele'. Uncomfortably Molly peeled the rest of the fabric down to the ankles and Sherlock was temporarily taken back to that day in the shower. Besides the yellow and purple bruises, deathly pale skin, and two broken ribs the body was a keen reminder of what he had seen and felt that day. Frustrated, Sherlock ripped the sheet back up and pushed back the lids of this woman's eyes. With a heavy heart and a lump in his throat he gazed down at familiar bi colored eyes of two hues of blue. He dropped his hand and allowed a numbness to consume him.

"Is it proof enough for you?" Lestrade asked gently after some time, genuinely wanting to know. Sherlock remained silent, stomping out of the room and down the empty hall.

**"What I felt for Jim...it was real. And he hurt me and betrayed me. How do I know you won't do the same?" **Sherlock ran his hand through his hair, trying to erase the sound of Adele's voice. His heels pounded hard against linoleum floors.

**"Because you do things to me that I have yet to understand and may never understand…" **Sherlock broke free into the bright outdoors, gasping for breath, groping for an understanding. Pressing the cigarette between his teeth Sherlock inhaled the plume of smoke deep into his lungs, staring into the street where the cars speed by; entirely unaware of the loss that consumed him.

**"I don't have fairies Sherlock." Adele spat, glaring viciously to cover the bitter betrayal she'd been dealt. "But if I did they wouldn't be as much of a pompous dick as you are." **

Why did that have to be the last time he saw her? Sherlock sucked the cigarette down until it was no more, reminding him that Adele was also no more.

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**OKKKKK so that is the overdue chapter! I know it's not super long but I felt the next event(s) were better off in a separate chapter. Seriously hoping I update more often (again not gonna make promises). Let me know what you think of this one (it's definitely not the end so please store away your torches &amp; pitchforks) And if you like: fav/follow/review! **

**Also, with the whole Sherlock series possibly not coming out until 2017 (sob) I'm not sure how this story is going to go o.0 since I've been following the story line. I really don't want to wait until 2017 so I hope it's just a rumor. **

**Till Next Time! Chao!**

** \- SpaceCake23**


	24. Chapter 23: Coming Undone

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**Coming Undone**

_**Sherlock Holmes**_

One, two, three…three weeks. Three weeks since having been given the final closure. And somehow Sherlock still hadn't completely come to terms with Adele's untimely passing. Late afternoon would usually be around when Adele would have a pop in, say her usual greetings to John while asking him about his day.

Yet, late afternoon came and went. The flat was quiet, only the mechanical ticking from the wall clock disrupted the silence. Sherlock was lazing about on the sofa, staring endlessly into the ceiling.

"Poor thing. I do hope he gets better." Mrs. Hudson whispered quietly from the kitchen. John nodded, his face somber.

"Mm. Yes. He should be fine in a week or so." Sherlock's eyes slanted, mouth curved slightly downwards.

"I am distraught not deaf. I _can_ hear you."

"Distraught? You? I thought you didn't feel those things." John grunted slapping the newspaper onto the detective's chest. "Why not do a case? It's been a while." Sherlock remained remote, having become more introvert than usual. John's shoulders fell and was at a total loss as to what to do. Mere remarks were not enough to jumpstart the detective.

"Okay. You know what? I'm going to go down to the pub, have me a pint, and you are welcomed to join me." John wasn't sure why he bothered, seeing as they both knew that Sherlock would certainly not be going to the bar.

John made a swift exit and Mrs. Hudson was off to see her new date. Sherlock was left alone and to his own devices. After he was sure no one would return he got up and dressed himself. It was time to truly close Adele's case. It had been a hazy commute. Faces, trees, cars, building, all meshed together as one. Sherlock had only one thing on his agenda, the rest was useless.

"It's been some time…" He muttered, his coat flapping gently. "I'd have come sooner…but I'm not good with these things." Below him, underneath the trees was the cool marble headstone. The words screamed out at him, reminding Sherlock of the bitter taste of failure.

Rachel Amethyst Banks

1991-2011

Beloved daughter, friend, and sister.

May you rest in peace.

Beneath the endearing words was a small picture of a duck with a little bow tie. Sherlock had opposed the Bank's decision in putting Adele's true name, he felt it was against all that Adele had strived for. But in the end it mattered little, they were nothing more than details.

"I didn't bring flowers…because that is ludicrous." Sherlock felt ludicrous. Talking to this hunk of rock like it could actually take in everything he said.

"I always felt the dead were just expirations. I see now that maybe that's not so…" Sherlock pondered for a moment before continuing, his steely gaze as hard as the marble stone he spoke to. "I've made peace with it, your death I mean. Maybe you're where you wish to be and more importantly how you wish to be. But just so you know…the after-life is a foolish idea made up by those who fear death." Somehow Sherlock felt he wasn't doing this right.

"Adele…I want you to know that," The detective cleared his throat, tilting his chin defiantly, "that I will never stop looking. I will solve your case." With an unsteady hand Sherlock placed it down onto the headstone, the cold biting back at him until eventually he went home.

That night John announced over tea that he was seeing someone, which of course was another ditz in the detective's opinion but he kept his comments to himself and stared out the window.

"Look what I've found." Mrs. Hudson chimed, letting herself in. In her frail arms was a bundle that Sherlock recognized immediately. It was one of Adele's ridiculously big wool sweaters. It was burgundy, a color that Sherlock quite liked on the tiny framed girl.

"That's odd." John's brow furrowed in concentration. "I thought I made sure to send everything back to America." Mrs. Hudson likewise shared a look of puzzlement.

"I washed this sweater the night she fainted in the hall. I could have sworn I'd given it back to her." The elder woman held the wool up to her nose, sniffing it gingerly.

"Strange." Mrs. Hudson said, "It still smells so clean. Despite being in the closet." Sherlock turned then to finally gaze at the garment fully. He abandoned his perch in the window seal, gliding forward and plucked the clothing from the woman's hands.

"That is strange." The detective mused, thumbing the soft woolen sweater. John glanced back and forth between Sherlock and the article of clothing curiously. He wasn't really sure why it was strange. Maybe Mrs. Hudson's closet kept the smell of fabric softener really well.

"I'm sorry." John coughed, setting down his cup of tea. "What's strange?" Sherlock then turned excitedly to his flatmate,

"Don't you see?" He gushed, "Adele is alive!" John's face was grave and void of humor. Mrs. Hudson who was adjacent to the former medic looked worried and confused.

"Sherlo-."

"Why else would a fresh smelling sweater be in Mrs. Hudson's closet?" Sherlock demanded, ignoring the looks being sent his way.

"Especially when Mrs. Hudson hadn't known it to be in her residence at all? And when you so carefully made sure Adele things were sent to their proper place?" Sherlock fumbled around the flat, nicking a strand from the sweater, placing it carefully into a small plastic bag.

"Sherlo-." John dropped his hand, covering his mouth as he watched Sherlock look like he was losing his ever-loving mind.

"I'll have Molly take a sample and-." John reached out, snatching the sweater and chucked it into a nearby bin. His face was furiously stern with his lips pressed into a barely noticeable thin line.

"Adele…is dead. Okay? You need to accept that. We all need to accept that. We went and saw her body. End of story. Do not do this to yourself Sherlock, do not do this to us. Enough is enough, I'm calling Mycroft to see what he can do about getting you a case. I've had enough." John stormed out of the flat and out of the apartment complex altogether, feeling extremely miffed.

Sherlock was staring where John had once stood, eventually turning to Mrs. Hudson who felt sorry for bringing the matter of the sweater up in the first place.

"You believe me, don't you Mrs. Hudson?" Sherlock asked almost pleadingly. The older woman tilted her head and clicked her tongue.

"It's not that I don't believe you Sherlock," She sighed softly. A sad look played in her eyes as she was forced to be honest. "I just don't see how Adele could be alive." Mrs. Hudson stood and began to leave, stopping short of the door she turned.

"Adele wouldn't want you to be like this. She'd want you doing what you do best. Get some rest dear." For the second time that day Sherlock was left to his own devices. He had taken the sweater out of the bin and brought it to his room where he hung it over the chair.

"What I do best..." He mused, laying on top of the covers on his bed. The small lamp to his right offering the only little light in the room. Initially he thought visiting the grave had brought him peace, closure, or whatever it was it was supposed to bring. However, Sherlock found he had not moved on at all and was agitated over the fact he was groping around in the darkness trying to find something that had no longer exsisted.

Eventually the detective dozed off into a dreamless sleep that was abruptly interrupted by a quiet thud from the living room.

Sherlock sprung up, expecting an intruder or John. Either way he wouldn't mind having a row. He turned the lamp off, carefully pushed the door open and eased his way down the hall. It was quiet and there was not an inclination that anyone else was in the flat but Sherlock. Sherlock peeked around the corner and lifted his hand, revealing a small pistol.

"You are a poor thief to make that much noise." He growled, cocking the gun. The intruder, dressed in all black turned to stare emotionlessly back at him.

"Hello Sherlock." Adele mused, her uneven eyes unfazed by Sherlock's shock. Sherlock kept the pistol raised, more out of uncertainty than protection. She stared down the barrel almost as if it'd bring her sweet relief.

"Sherlock! I think you were right!" John's voice rang from on the other side of the door which he swung open hastily. "I think I saw-!"

"Adele." Sherlock finished. John stopped mid-sentence, attempting to make sense of the scene that was unfolding before him.

Adele blinked as if she were coming out of a heavy daze. "I…" She glanced around her looking severely confused. "I…was lost." She remained in her place so Sherlock strode forward, taking her face in his hands and checked Adele's pupils for dilation. When he found nothing wrong there he moved on to her pulse which was steady but the blood coursed through her veins excitedly. Nothing out of the ordinary.

"We saw you. I saw you!" Sherlock exclaimed racking his brain to go over every single detail from the morgue. Adele looked down unsure of what to say. Her hands came together in the front, subconsciously shielding herself from an uncomfortable confrontation.

"I've been away. But everything is so fuzzy." She offered little explanation and Sherlock knew she was lying but decided to let it go. For now.

"We've got to call Lestrade or the Banks…" John offered in a hurry, grabbing for his cell phone.

"No." Sherlock snapped quickly. John squinted a questioningly look the detective's way.

"No?" He balked, "Adele is alive! We need to tell people! The Banks need to know their daughter is alive! And that the woman buried in Adele's grave is not Adele!"

"She's been drugged" Sherlock lied, "and been through a lot. Let her get a grip on things. Then we'll sound the alarm." John eventually agreed and let Sherlock carry the dazed girl to his room. Sherlock wanted nothing more than to figure out what was going on but out of pure selfishness wished to have Adele to himself.

Adele had stripped out of her black clothing and slipped into her big sweater and loose pants that she had borrowed from Sherlock, tightening the waistband as tight as it would go. She was sitting on the floor, her usual spot, only it looked unusual because she'd been gone for weeks -presumably dead- scooting food around on her plate.

"Uh, Adele. Where have you been?" John asked finally, causing Adele to pause. He had held onto her for a good five minutes -much to Sherlock's distaste-, feeling absolutely thrilled that she was not dead.

"Everywhere." She answered automatically. John and Sherlock shared a look, Sherlock lifted his cup to his mouth, staring at the girl intently. A part of him feared she would dissipate into thin air.

"Everywhere as in…?" John pressed, elbows resting firmly on his knees as if he were at ease when in reality that's where all of his tension was.

"Germany, Thailand, Madagascar, China. Just everywhere." Adele answered again. Her words were hollow, devoid of any memory behind the words. Something was off, Sherlock knew this much and he would get to the bottom of it at all costs. However, he suspected Adele would not release her secrets easily.

"Right." John sighed, "You're tired. I'm tired. What matters is that you are alive and well." The detective was pleased to see that John was close to retiring for the night. The doctor stood up and made his way to his room turning to face Adele one last time before leaving.

"If it's all the same Adele," Adele jerked her head in John's direction shyly "Whatever happened and truly I mean that. Whatever it was, you're safe now." Sherlock tilted his chin. So John had caught on that Adele felt she was in danger. Her acting skills were off.

"I should go." Adele murmured, preparing to leave to her apartment. Unaware that it was as empty as the day she had moved in.

"I'm afraid you'll be staying here. Your death was quite an uproar; all your things were sent back to your parents." Sherlock clipped, watching with interest as Adele's shoulder's dropped. Sherlock stood and grasped Adele's arm,

"Besides, we have a lot to catch up on."

_**Adele Banks**_

I gulped as Sherlock led me into his room, softly shutting the door. Being in his room was no problem at all, in fact over a month and a half his room was a welcomed relief. I had indeed heard of my death, my burial, my discovery, and second burial. Free I was to do as I pleased and be as I truly was. Honestly, it was absolute heaven to not have to pretend. Even though it caused those I loved immense amounts of pain. At the time though, I could have cared less. I could feel the seething anger radiating off of the detective. His back arched into a tight line, jaw pressed in a calm anger. I knew all the questions he had and all the answers I could not give. Because I was a coward and too ashamed to admit I was weak, not to mention so stupidly foolish.

"Sherlock I-." Sherlock rounded on my, crushing me into his chest. I gasped aloud as our lips crashed together. _This is not what I had in mind. _I thought, my mind going thoroughly blank.

"You will tell me what happened." Sherlock drawled lazily, reminded me of the day I'd first met him. "Maybe not today or tomorrow. But I _will_ know what happened." Sherlock stood close to me, his eyes were dangerously cunning, cat like almost as he dragged the tips of his fingers against the nape of my neck. His thumb pressed firmly, checking my pulse. I was embarrassed that he knew my heart was trying to escape out of my ribcage. Every touch burned, igniting a flame deep in the pit of my stomach that made my breath hitch in my throat.

Slowly I nodded, there was only one person more demanding than Sherlock and that was Jim. But at least I wouldn't feel a seething wrath with Sherlock like I did with Jim.

"Adele." Sherlock's voice brought me out of my thoughts and I finally looked him in the eyes.

"I know you weren't kidnapped." Sherlock spoke unusually soft as his thumbs rubbed small circles into my arms. His head was bent so that his forehead rested in the crook of my neck. My sweater was lifted up exposing my braless chest. Of all the things I did feel, shame was not one of them.

"Just tell me why you came back." I lifted my hand, placing it over his heart unsmiling. Coming back had been the hard part in my long unexpected journey.

"Because I hated who I became." I bit back my disgust even though I was overwhelmed with burning shame. "You were right Sherlock. All he does is use people." Something like hurt played on the detective's face when he stared down at me. I expected him to despise me, after all Moriarty did try to blow us up via John Express. Instead he kissed me, bringing me out of emptiness. I didn't feel awkward with him, only a painful want that hungry hands, and mouths fed. It was hot even though the room was cold as we let our bodies do the talking.

_**Sherlock Holmes**_

Curse this infuriating woman, all this time he grieved and she was off picking daisies with Jim Moriarity. As angry as he was he was happy to have her back. He felt smug because in the end she still chose him over Moriarty. At first Sherlock had rejected the idea altogether that he could have anything physical with Adele, it made him vulnerable, it made him weak. Sherlock looked at Adele, even in her sleep she clung to him for dear life. He pulled the covers over her bare shoulder, shielding her from the cold.

He loathed to admit that she of all people had a hold of him, like his long ago addiction to heroin, he gave in. For now he was pleased at keeping Adele here as his very own where Moriarty was not a part of. Sherlock was determined to make Adele forget him and be his entirely. Although, how did he do something that Moriarty would do without becoming Moriarty?

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**Huzzah for another chapter! Hopefully Sherlock wasn't too out of character! Thanks again for stopping by and checking out my story! If you liked please fav/follow and/or comment! Till next time!**

** -SpaceCake23**


	25. Chapter 24: Wrath

I love the support I get from you all and I think with 24 chapters in and still getting a steady amount of favs and follows is awesome! There's also soo many this time around! Thanks soo much for fav/following!

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**Note: Please remember this chapter will be shorter since it's in Jim's POV. A tad graphic (a warning if you're sensitive to that sort of thing)**

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**Wrath**

_**Jim Moriarty**_

Jim was at the desk, tapping his pen very carefully as he thought about his next move. In his other hand was a pistol. Finger gingerly rested on the trigger.

"She…overpowered us." The woman in the maid's outfit pleaded, her blonde hair a scattered mess as she had been forcibly dragged into Jim's office which was brightly open to the world outside the windows. As if Jim could care less about anyone seeing what he was about to do. And truly, he didn't.

"All four of you? Honestly? You expect me to believe that Adele managed to not only deceive you, plotted an escape, but that she also over powered you?" Jim mulled lazily, swiveling his chair to face the shaking maid.

"It's true! She strangled Marcy!" The woman cried again, her mascara washing out of her eyes pathetically. Jim wanted to shoot her just because. But he needed answers. It had surprised him little that Adele had unflinchingly killed Marcy. It's what he had been training her to do. With the right nudge with the right trigger she was a very vicious killing machine. Not only was Marcy dead but so were two others. Besides Marcy they had all died in the same way. Stomach slashed clean open, causing them to die of severe blood loss.

"Adele did not know her surroundings outside of her room. She had to have inside help." He insisted, pulling the gun up to examine it, his dark eyes lingering over it threateningly. "You and Marcy were the only ones who had daily contact with her."

"She claimed to have counted foot patterns." One man in a suit and tie said, nose pointed down at the floor as he quickly explained that Adele had used Marcy as a shield from bullets, tying a cord around the woman's neck to force her to move with her movements, fending off her pursuer's advances with her own stolen gun; and then as her own pillow to land on when Adele took a dive out the window. Jim smiled, secretly feeling quite pleased with the ruthlessness he planted inside his toy. Learning the staff's schedule was one thing and counting footsteps to get acquainted with your surroundings was another. But learning his schedule was what made Jim think she had had inside help and was indeed on an entirely different level. It meant someone had to have helped her. Yet, nobody had anything to gain from helping Adele. Absolutely nothing.

Especially not Marcy who had all but been turned in to squashed human jelly. Then again, who wouldn't after falling three stories with someone landing on top of you? Jim chuckled jovially to himself as he thought of scraping up some of that jelly in a preserving jar and putting it on a grocery shelf. But that idea was beneath him, something his child self would have done. He was much more sophisticated now. As much as Jim hated to admit it, he was forced to face the fact that Adele had acted alone.

"Please! We don't know anything! Nobody here worked with –." Jim rounded on the maid, eyes flashing maniacally while feeling absolutely pleased when he put a bullet in the maid's head. He watched her body fall to the floor twitching as the last signals were sent throughout the body. The three men left shifted on their feet uncomfortably, silently praying they were not next.

"You've costed me one of my favorite toys." Jim sighed, placing the gun on the table. Wiping his face with a handkerchief, thankful the blood did not get on his beloved Westwood.

"She's worth quite a lot. Go and fetch her for me. Should you fail though…I'll turn you into jelly." Okay, Jim grinned. Not totally beneath him. He still liked to have fun after all. He watched as the men filed hastily out of the room, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

"You've run my kindness thin love." Jim mused softly. "I cannot say it would be good for you should we meet again." While Jim yearned to have Adele back, he was also glad to have her gone. Adele seemed to project a certain hold over others that she was not aware of. Nor was he immune of it. He despised that he enjoyed their time together and loathed himself for feeling out of sorts when she chose Sherlock over him. He could have given her the world in a blaze of glory. But no. She wanted Sherlock and whatever it was he gave her.

"Will not be good for you indeed." Jim plucked the gun up once more. "I'll just have to kill you. Because as the saying goes. If I can't have you, no one can." Then he got an awful idea.

"Or better yet. I'll have Sherlock kill you instead." Jim laughed to himself, sitting in his chair to go over his thoughts.

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**That's it for this chapter! If you liked fav/followed/comment! As your continued support and feedback is loved and appreciated! Stay tuned in for the next chapter! **

** -SpaceCake23**


	26. Chapter 25: It's all in Your Head

**Thanks so much to those who have fav'd/followed/ &amp; commented (I admit I procrastinated with this chapter)! I really can't believe this story has ****130 follows and 108 favs****! Can I just say WOW! I never expected this story to really be popular so I am really happy that you are enjoying it (And another special thanks to those who have fav'd/followed me personally):**

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* * *

**Infiltrated**

_It was in the early hours of the morning, the sun not yet gearing towards rising in the sky. But somehow I could still see the world infinitely. The hills were orange and the water a lovely purple. We sloshed lazily in silence. The little red boat wading softly in the smooth waves._

"_It's safe here you know," Rachel said her hand in mine. "you could stay here forever and never have to worry." It was tempting and cowardly. But I don't think I was ever brave, just stupid. And after all that had happened all I wanted to do was hide. Roach skittered around our toes, prickly antennas tickling our feet. He liked that idea._

"_I'm glad you're back." I murmured not answering her subtle questions. Because I still thought of Sherlock and John and Mrs. Hudson. I did not want to be without them, Sherlock especially. I had no idea when it happened but I found that I cared for Sherlock more than I think I should. Was it love? Or just desire? Whatever it was I wanted it badly. Even if it was not fully returned._

"_I was never gone." Rachel replied, bi colored eyes swirling as if someone had stirred the centers. I turned to stare at her face, so similar to mine, ignoring her crisp gown that was botched in bright crimson. "Then where did you go? I called you again and again." _

"_Because I hated who you became. I hated what you did." Rachel said severely her pink lips in a tight frown. "What you did, it was wrong. You knew that the whole time." It was true I thought sadly, all those people I killed I knew that it was wrong. At first it was because I was free, no meds, not a care in the world, and Moriarty accepted me. But when Rachel and Roach and even 'Q' started to fade away I realized I was becoming something else. Something that was quiet and alone. Whatever meds Jim had doused me with were entirely different from the ones I was used to. They were used as a punishment, so that I was left to face my deeds in full. More and more I longed to be completely out of touch with reality. It kept me safe. But the more out of it I was, the more Moriarty could use me to do bad things. I broke and allowed him to take advantage of my weaknesses. Although with some satisfaction I became harder to deal with and control. I lashed out at anyone who came into my room. _

"_Who…am I Rachel?" I asked finally, sometimes when I looked at her I wondered if she were the real me and I was the imaginary one. What if I wasn't real at all? _

"_You're me and I am you. We're the same but also entirely different." Rachel, my voice of reason explained. "I am THE you. You are just another you that you made up." My head itched and I could feel 'Q' clawing a little whole there. Roach ceased his mindless chittering and scurried hastily away._

"_You should wake up now." Rachel mused not blinking. The serene feeling that had surrounded us was gone and I felt cold. "I'm not afraid of 'Q'." I said and it was true. 'Q' was just annoying and at times detrimental to my mental health. But I was not afraid of him._

"_No Damsel. But you are afraid of me." I froze as Moriarty heaved out of my head. He grinned his usual grin when he stood before me. Black eyes wide in a crazed pleasure._

"_Didn't I tell you silly?" He chuckled watching me trying to close the gap in my skull. "You will always be mine." Rachel was gone and I was alone with this monster._

"_How are you here? How?!" I didn't wait for him to answer me and instead threw myself into the water, remembering I couldn't swim._

"_Sherlock! Sherlock!" I shrieked, clawing clumsily through the water as I began to sink rather than swim._

"_You can't run from me Damsel! You can't run from your head!" Jim howled from the boat watching my head bob underneath the water._

* * *

**Sherlock Holmes**

Adele shot up gasping and covered in a cold sweat. She had seemed peaceful at first so he had been content in letting her sleep, until she began to jerk in her sleep, tossing and turning with anxiety.

"Sherlock!" She cried glancing around the room in confusion and then relaxed. "It was a dream." Still Adele had not revealed what had happened during her disappearance but Sherlock did not need her to because he had already known. He admitted that he was disappointed that Adele had allowed herself to be so easily used to commit hell bound worth crimes.

"Tell me," Sherlock said, his face grave. "were you aware of what you were doing when you butchered those people?" Adele stiffened and stared at her hands in her lap.

"At first no." Sherlock was surprised at how easy it was to get the answers out of her. "But then I did it to be free. I was selfish…" She dropped off, allowing Sherlock to figure out for himself. He cocked his head, staring at the younger woman curiously. He wondered what had changed. Adele looked entirely ashamed and grieved.

Sherlock did not pity her, not one bit. It was hard to honestly. Because he had felt the full effects of her death. He was angry that he had felt those things. Because now he doubted himself, he was no longer sure or protected. Yet, as angry as he was and as scornful as Sherlock felt he wasn't sure how to act around her anymore. Adele was more fragile, less engaged, and broken. He had noticed that she spent a lot of time at the sink, muttering while scrubbing her hands raw. What was more was that she more than embraced her episodes (which were more frequent) and dotted on being lost to her world. She smoked more and he suspected she was drinking to egg on her hallucinations.

"So life became 'scary' and you chose you instead of their lives?" Adele rubbed her temples to blotch out Sherlock's voice and perhaps to soothe her hangover.

"You don't know what he's like Sherlock…he's a web. He's…he's evil. Really evil." Adele whined, erupting a fury inside of Sherlock, he stood up fast, whipping an accusing finger at Adele.

"You killed an entire family! At their dinner table!" Adele rolled onto her side, groaning. "I know!" She began to sob loudly as she recalled their cries. Sherlock resisted the urge to shake her. She needed to be strong, she needed to face her fears. He pitied her then as he watched Adele curl into a ball, shaking.

"He's coming for me Sherlock. He won't let me go…I never meant to hurt anyone. Never." She inhaled, trying to ease her sobs into silent tears, eyes wide and unblinking in fear. "I just wanted to be free. But I'd rather be in a cage than do what he made me do. They didn't deserve to die Sherlock."

* * *

**Adele Banks**

Sherlock's weight shifted on the bed, sitting on the edge he grasped my hand. "He won't have you. I promise." I stared at him wished to say something but found that on the inside was empty. It was times like these that I wanted my mom and wanted to hold onto her tightly. To hear her tell me that everything was alright. To say she loved me one more time. Just having her warm hand pet my hair would have brought me great relief. But it had been my decision alone to keep my family in the dark about my not being dead status. For their own good they needed to believe that I was dead. I needed to stop being selfish. If I was going to die (for real this time) then I'd die knowing I had done all I could to keep them safe.

_At least you still have me. -Rachel_

"Just promise me one more thing Sherlock." I whispered, feeling Sherlock's eyes on me. "Don't be the hero. Don't try to save me when I'm not worth saving. Moriarty….just get away from him has far as possible." Sherlock squeezed my hand his face strong with confidence.

"I'll be the judge of what's worth saving thanks." I felt my heart drop, then you are a fool I thought sadly, slipping back into my thoughts. This time greeted by grassy fields and yellow buttercups.

* * *

**Sherlock Holmes**

Adele slipped away once again to his dismay. But at least it wasn't under the influence.

"You'll get him. Won't you?" John stood in the doorway.

"I have to." Sherlock felt more than ever to be rid of Moriarty once in for all. He was positive that once the threat was over Adele could make a full recovery once more and be as she once was, whole and complete.

"Come John. We have work to do." The two men exited the room, more determined than ever to get rid of Moriarty.

* * *

**OK! That's it for this chapter! I hope it is satisfactory! Let me know what you thought and/or fav &amp; follow!****Thank you so much for stopping by and reading!**

*****We are drawing to a close and I will not reveal when or how. It is a 'surprise' I guess you could say. So do not ask. I've never been good at endings but I'll take my chances and feel the wrath if I must. Hopefully what I have planned will be pleasant and pleasing.*****


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